

Class t? ?, 

Book __ _ .TjmfeO 

Copyright }! 0 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 










OUGHT WE TO CARE 










oi.'C S / ^ O 



THE ONE WHOM ESTHER HAD CALLED IN HER THOUGHTS 
THE ‘OUGHT WE TO CARE TREACHER.’ ” 

( P ■ 148) 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


or 


ESTHER’S OPPORTUNITIES 

« 

V w * 


by 

LYDIA BARTLETT RICHARDSON 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 

150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 



THE IJBRARY OF 
CON OP ESS, 

Two Copies Received 

JUN 22 1903 



Copyright , 1903 , 

By American Tract Society. 


• ••• » • » a 

• • • • 

#•••*» • 

* • * • 

• * t « • •> 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


OR ESTHER’S OPPORTUNITIES 


CHAPTER I. 

“Oh, dear ! Aunt Esther is coming here Monday.” 

“What a bore ! I wish she would stay at home.” 

“Arthur, is that the way to speak about your aunt and 
my sister ?” 

“Well, Frank, you know we are all fond of Esther; but 
I must say she rather wearies me, she is so busy and so 
energetic.” 

The Selbys were lingering at the breakfast table, chat- 
ting pleasantly, when the mail was brought in, and an 
item in Miss Annie’s letter caused the above exclama- 
tions. 

The family group consisted of Annie, a girl of about 
seventeen ; her brother Arthur, some two years older ; the 
father, Mr. Frank Selby, and the mother, a rather faded 
and languid, but refined-looking woman. 

A few hours later, as the mother and daughter were 
sitting together in their pleasant morning room, the 
former said : “I wish Arthur wouldn’t speak so about his 


6 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


aunt. His father thinks she is perfect, and she was very 
generous to him at the time their father died.” 

“I think she is lovely, but Arthur feels cross because 
she stopped sending him pocket money Christmas and 
birthdays, saying she could not give money to be spent in 
gambling. He says he never gambled, only when the 
fellows played cards and it was getting rather dull, they 
sometimes put down small silver to make it more inter- 
esting.” 

“But, Annie, when you read that she was coming to 
make a long visit, you exclaimed ‘Oh, dear P ” 

“That was because our whist club meets here Wednes- 
day, and I happened to remember that she is down on 
cards and wine.” 

“Why, Annie! where did you get that phrase ‘down 
on* ? I have heard you use it several times lately.” 

“Sure enough, where did I get it ? I remember now j 
doe Green used it several times when he called yesterday. 
He was joking Arthur about being ‘down in the mouth/ 
and asked him if he was ‘down on his luck the night be- 
fore, and told him the ‘Governor would be down on him 
if he lost so many dimes very often/ I don’t know what 
he meant, but Arthur started up and said to Joe, ‘It’s 
time we started if we are going/ ” 

“But,” exclaimed her mother, “who is Joe Green, and 
where did your brother get acquainted with him ?” 

He met him at Dan Blank’s. He has called here sev- 


or Esther's opportunities. 


7 


eral times, and two or three times I have happened to be 
in the room. He is very amusing; he is so bright and 
witty.” 

“Dan Blank’s !” exclaimed her mother. “I thought I 
told him when the Blanks came to town not to cultivate 
Dan’s acquaintance, for I had heard that he was fast.” 

“I don’t think he could help it very well,” said Annie, 
apologetically. “They belong to the same club, and, you 
know, his father is very rich and they live in such style : 
almost everyone does visit there. I know his father is in 
the liquor business in Boston; but Joe Green says, ‘If 
old Blank did sell awful bad liquors, he knew enough to 
bring mighty good ones home,’ and young Blank was 
‘no end of generous with pa’s wines.’ That was the 
reason the club met there oftener than it did anywhere 
else.” 

“Oh, dear!” sighed the weak mother, “I am afraid 
Arthur will go to ruin. I wish his father had more time 
to see to him ; he must forbid his going with those fast 
young men.” 

Ah ! why did not that mother draw that careless but 
affectionate boy to her side and kindly reason with him ! 
Why did she not so wrap him round with mother love 
that he could not go far astray ! Why did she not hold 
him in the right path with her prayers and faith ! The 
reason is plain: she was only a nominal Christian; she 
had a languid body and weak will, and the Holy Spirit 


8 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


did not dwell in her, making her judgment clear, energiz- 
ing her will, and filling her heart with unselfish love. 

I have given you a glimpse of the characters of three of 
the family, and now I will introduce you to its head. But 
in order to do this I must commence with his father. 

Mr. James Selby was a successful Boston merchant, 
who married, rather late in life, a beautiful and intelli- 
gent woman, and, having amassed a large fortune, when 
his son Frank was about twelve years of age and his 
daughter an infant, he purchased a beautiful estate in a 
flourishing town near Boston, and lived there the rest of 
his life. When his son was twenty-one he established him 
in a good business in the same town. The business pros- 
pered, its success being caused largely by Frank's strict 
attention to it. In fact, each year he became more and 
more absorbed in it, and, after he married and had chil- 
dren, he was so eager to make money for his family that 
he could not take time, as his wife hinted, to watch over 
the morals of his only son. He is not a Christian. His 
father’s and mother’s prayers are not yet answered, but 
in the greater light and trust of Heaven they know that 
they will be. Must he be aroused to a sense of his re- 
sponsibility by some sharp trial ! God grant that it may 
bring him to the foot of the cross ! 

Who is Aunt Esther? 

The baby girl before mentioned. 

Fifteen years she lived happily with her parents in 


/ 


or Esther's opportunities. 


9 


their beautiful home. Fifteen years she had her mother’s 
judicious training, loving care, and Christian instruc- 
tion and example, until she grew close and closer to that 
mother’s heart — so close that it seemed as though even 
death could not break the bond. And can we not say it 
did not, for, having satisfied her mother’s heart by a sin- 
cere dedication of herself to Christ after that mother 
left this world, she remembered and obeyed her instruc- 
tions: loving her God, trusting her Savior, walking joy- 
fully in her footsteps, along the heavenward way, her 
eye fixed on the bright goal, “A Christian’s home in 
glory,” where her mother waited for her. 

Ten years more she devoted to her father. After the 
death of his wife he aged rapidly, and yet lived ten years 
in what seemed to be a slow decline. He required con- 
stant attention, and she lovingly gave it, with a patience 
for his fretful days such as only one who loved him so 
well could have given; showing a wonderful fertility of 
invention in amusing his desponding days; and in his 
comfortable ones sympathizing with him in his pur- 
suits; conversing with him, reading and discussing 
books with him, thereby gaining large stores of 
knowledge, useful information, and knowledge of his 
experiences, especially Christian experiences, for he had 
been for many years a whole-souled, open-handed, loving- 
hearted Christian. With his last words he blessed her, 
saying she had filled his ten years of suffering with 
brightness by her loving care. 


10 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


Her father’s will, stripped of the usual technicalities, 
was something as follows: After mentioning several 
keepsakes for each of his children, grandchildren and 
others, also a generous sum which he had invested for 
each of his grandchildren, to be paid to them at a certain 
age, it went on to say, that having expended a large sum 
of money in establishing his son in business, and as that 
business bade fair to be lucrative, he gave all his property, 
real and personal, to his daughter, with the exception of 
the home estate, which he gave to his son. He gave also to 
him the furniture of house and stables, with the one con- 
dition, that the suite of furnished rooms then occupied 
by his daughter should be reserved for her use as long as 
she chose. 

At the close of the reading of the will, no one being 
present but her brother’s family, the lawyer, and herself, 
she said earnestly : “I had not noticed that our father’s 
mind failed at all the last of his life ; indeed, I thought 
it seemed particularly clear during the last year; but I 
do not think he would have made such a will five years 
ago.” 

Then, turning to the lawyer, she said : "I wish that, as 
soon as possible, you would make an estimate of the 
property left to me, for I intend to have it equally divided 
between my brother and myself.” 

“But,” said her brother, starting up, “you forget that 
I have already had so much, and that I have my business 
to support me, while you have none.” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


11 


“You have a family to support, while I have none,” 
she answered with a smile. “You will let me have my 
own way,” she said, going to him, placing her hand on 
his arm and looking up pleadingly at him. 

His only answer was to put his arm around and draw 
her fondly to his side, for he dearly loved this only sister, 
and showed that he did — when he had time. 


12 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER II. 

Soon after her father’s death, Esther received a letter 
from her mother’s sister in Vermont, begging her to come 
to her for a long visit, reminding her of the unpleasant- 
ness of the bustle and stir unavoidable in the moving in 
of her brother’s family, and saying she longed for a sight 
of her dear sister’s child. 

So, taking a long look at her pleasant rooms, where she 
had arranged her household treasures, and a loving fare- 
well of the many mementos of her dear mother and 
father, which the latter had given her at different times 
before his death, she started for the green mountains of 
Vermont. 

She found her aunt, who was something of an invalid, 
in her usual health and overjoyed to greet her. 

The aunt lived by herself in a pleasant house, with 
capable servants. The next house was the residence of 
her married daughter. 

Esther’s health was somewhat broken in consequence 
of her unremitting attentions to her father and close 


or Esther's opportunities. 


13 


confinement to the house during the last months of his 
life. But the invigorating mountain air soon restored 
her energies and elasticity, and she rambled through the 
beautiful scenes within a short walk from her aunt’s 
home, admiring the scenery and drinking in the “wine 
of the hills” with ever increasing delight. 

She found her aunt to be a very congenial companion. 
She had read and thought a great deal and had a large 
circle of intelligent and educated friends. She had large 
means and a large heart, and, feeling herself to be but a 
steward of God’s bounty, she gave liberally to His poor. 

But she did not give money only; having plenty of 
time, she spent a large part of it in thoughtful care for 
them. Knowing that so many of the poor had so little 
time to make garments, even if they had the cloth, she 
often fashioned neat and appropriate garments out of old 
or new material for them. She did not, as some do, go 
to the chests in the attic and bring out a half-worn silk, 
a soiled cashmere, or delicate muslin, and give it to a 
washwoman, one who worked hard all day and every day, 
and had no time, even if she had the ability to remodel it, 
thereby teaching her to be untidy in dress, and tempting 
her to wear shabby finery. 

By means of her various friends (and she made use of 
her friends in this service, and by that means often 
caused them to be interested in the poor) she generally 
knew of some invalid who was happier for some slight 


14 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


employment, or some lonely woman with a small income, 
to whose few comforts a dollar earned once in awhile 
brought welcome additions. So it was her custom, when 
a dress or cloak was past wear, to send it to one of these 
to be ripped nicely. Then she had it washed, if neces- 
sary, or cleaned and pressed, when it was ready to be 
made over by itself, to use in combination with another, 
or to trim some garment for some woman or child, that 
would make them look decent or even tasteful (for why 
should not the poor have pretty things) for church or 
school. 

She often employed needy seamstresses to assist in the 
making, paying them liberally, thus benefiting many. 

As it was her belief that the best way to help the needy 
was to aid them in helping themselves, she used her in- 
fluence with her business friends to procure employ- 
ment for husbands, fathers, or brothers out of work, and 
with her lady friends for the women who could work. 

The common clothes that she gave for workdays were 
always made of new, strong material. 

Perhaps I need not say that I have given such a par- 
ticular account of some of her modes of giving as a hint 
to other givers ; but there has been so much harm done by 
careless giving that I cannot refrain. Many a young 
working girl has learned to be untidy and vain by having 
cast-off garments of rich material and stylish make given 
to her. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


15 


There is also another objection to giving a lady’s cast- 
off dress, cloak or bonnet, which is more selfish, but of 
which I should think every woman of refinement would 
think. A lady’s dress should be, and I think, when 
chosen by herself, always is, like herself. It is an ex- 
ponent of her taste, modesty, love of beauty, originality, 
or unobtrusiveness; and it must be mortifying to see a 
creation of her mind worn by a loud-voiced girl on the 
streets, or to have a friend say, "I saw a woman, half 
intoxicated, dragging through the mud that lavender 
dress that you wore two years ago, the one I thought such 
a lovely shade. There was hardly a place on it where 
you could see the original color, it was so dirty; but I 
knew the cut as soon as I saw it. You know, I told you 
it was just like you — so original and pretty.” 

As Esther was young and active, and delighted in out- 
door exercise, she took great pleasure in helping her aunt, 
being her messenger and almoner. She found many op- 
portunities of aiding her needy brothers and sisters by 
money, by sympathy and encouragement in temporal 
affairs, and, what gave her great joy, to help advance the 
spiritual kingdom of her Lord. 

She has garnered a few sheaves in that field, but most 
of her work has been planting the seed : her faith assures 
her that it shall spring up and bear an abundant harvest. 

She taught a class in the Sunday School, and in all 
ways tried to be an efficient helper to the pastor and 


16 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


superintendent. She sang in the choir, for she thought 
it a privilege to dedicate the fine voice that God had given 
her to His service. 

So month after month, and year after year passed on, 
in sweet companionship, and active work for the Master, 
with only short visits occasionally to her brother and 
other friends, until five more years had flown, for when- 
ever she spoke of returning, her aunt urged her to stay, 
declaring that she needed her the most. Then that dear 
friend’s health failing rapidly, she needed no urging to 
stay longer, for she saw that her presence and loving 
ministrations were an unspeakable comfort to her. 

Are some loving spirits sent to earth in bodily form for 
the purpose of ministering to the suffering ones ? 

And now that dear friend has gone home. 

How large the family circle in Heaven grows year by 
year ! 

How many, though realizing that she has gained im- 
measurably by the change, yet sadly mourn their own 
loss ! How many weeping, show, as they did at the death 
of Dorcas of old, the garments that her hands had made ! 

And now Esther is thirty-two years of age and a lovely 
woman, much more so than she was at twenty. She is 
beautiful with the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. 
Her quiet self-possession is charming. An earnest spirit 
sits enthroned upon her brow, but her face often sparkles 
with animation or dimples with smiles. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


17 


She is not married ; some say the reason is, her ideal, 
a manly man, a Christ-like Christian, has not yet offered 
her his heart. 

Do you say it is too late ; now she will be an old maid ? 
If so, it shall be well. Her life shall be rounded, beauti- 
ful and happy, a blessing to herself and others and 
“Heaven to crown it all” : for is she not a princess, “heir 
of God and joint heir with Christ”? 

But perhaps her loving Father means that she shall 
not miss that crown of a woman’s earthly life, a good 
husband. Perhaps she is being trained, by reading, by 
thought, by communion with noble minds, by various ex- 
periences, even by trials and afflictions, to be a mate for 
one who in his turn is having somewhat of masculine 
coarseness refined away, his sympathies broadened and 
deepened, his heart softened and made capable of a pure, 
unselfish love, so that, in the near future, there shall be 
such a perfect and harmonious union formed as is rarely 
seen in this life. 


18 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER III. 

Esther had bidden good-bye to the town where she had 
lived seven years, had exchanged tearful farewells with 
her numerous friends, and was seated in the cars on her 
way to her brother’s house, which was to be her home for 
awhile. 

From the car window she looked with admiring eyes 
on the swiftly-moving river, gleaming in the sunshine, 
and the green velvet carpet of the fertile valleys so beauti- 
fully and lavishly embroidered with many colored flowers 
by God’s hand. But at last her ear caught the sound of a 
pleading voice, and, looking in the direction from which 
it came, she saw, on the other side of the aisle, a poorly- 
dressed woman and a boy about four years of age. 

The boy was saying, “I am so hungry ; please get me 
something to eat.” 

The lady (for evidently she was a lady, as she had the 
air of cultivation and refinement which is unmistakable, 
no matter what the garb is) flushed slightly as her eyes 
met Esther’s, and, drawing the boy more closely to her 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


19 


side, said a few words to him in a low tone, which quieted 
him, but he looked disappointed. 

The boy’s expressed wish for something to eat re- 
minded Esther that her cousin had kindly put a lunch in 
her bag just before she started, saying, “The cars stop 
such a short time for refreshments, it is much nicer to 
take a lunch.” 

Opening her bag, she spoke to the lady, begging that 
she would allow her little boy to eat some of her luncheon, 
for she had so much, remarking, “It makes children so 
hungry to travel.” 

Having passed him a couple of sandwiches and some 
cookies, which he received with unmistakable delight, 
she busied herself in her book. 

Soon after a gentleman entered the car, and came 
towards her, looking to the right and left, evidently in 
search of some one whom he expected to meet on that 
train. As he saw her he raised his hat, paused, smiled 
slightly, bowed, and passed on out of the car. 

Esther smiled too, in an amused way, and thought : “It 
would have been rather awkward for him to speak to me ; 
I suppose he does not know my name. I am sure I am 
ignorant of his, but yet I feel somewhat acquainted with 
him. How well I remember that Wednesday night lec- 
ture and the incident afterwards. 

“The Sabbath before Aunt was more unwell than usual 
and I would not leave her to go to church, so one of my 


20 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


young cousins came in on his way home, to tell me what 
notices had been given for evening meetings for the week. 
Among others he said, ‘Our pastor said that a college 
friend of his would be with him for a day or two and 
would lecture in the church Wednesday night, but/ the 
lad added, ‘I can’t remember his name/ 

“I went to the lecture. The text was, Am I my 
brother’s keeper?’ I called it the 'Ought I to care lec- 
ture.’ 

"The first part of it was a sort of vision. He said : T 
see on a modern housetop, in a populous town, a 
Christian man and woman. Beside them stands a strong, 
bright angel, in his hand a telescope, by his side a tele- 
phone. 

" ‘The angel hands the telescope to the man and says, 
"What do you see ?” 

" ‘The man answers, "I see a liquor saloon down town ; 
the windows are brilliantly lighted, and” — with a start — 
"it doesn’t seem possible, but a young man who has been 
in my employ six months is just going in. He came 
from the country, well recommended to me, and I know 
he has been very industrious and faithful since he has 
been with me, for I have watched him. I am sorry, for 
if he is in the habit of going there, he will not be good for 
much bye and bye.” 

" ‘ "What are you going to do about it ?” 

" ‘ "I don’t see as I can do much ; it is not my affair, is 


or Esther's opportunities. 


21 


it ? I cannot look after all the men in my employ and see 
where they spend their evenings.” 

“ ‘Pointing to the telephone, the angel says, “Speak to 
him” — and, wonderful! I can hear the questions and 
answers. 

“ ‘ “George, what are you going in there for ?” 

“ ‘ “To see the fun and hear the jokes. I don’t drink 
much ; I don’t care for it.” 

“ ‘ “Would your mother like to have you go there ?” 

“ ‘ “I would not have my mother know it for the 
world.” 

“ ‘ “Then if she should hear of it, the fun and jokes 
would not pay you when you saw her grief. Why will you 
do it?” 

“ ‘ “I am so lonesome. All the young men who board 
where I do go out every evening. The first few weeks 
after I came to town, I walked around a short time each 
evening, and looked at the buildings and shop windows, 
but those are an old story now; besides, I am too tired 
after a hard day’s work to walk the streets all the evening, 
and if I stay at home I have no one but my landlady, and 
she is not very good company, for she talks all the time 
about her troubles and trials.” 

“ ‘ “Do you like to read ?” 

“ ‘ “ Ever so much ! but I have read the few books I 
have, over and over again, and I cannot afford to buy 
more.” 


22 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“ 'The angel says, “Ought you to care?” 

“ ‘ “Yes ! and I will. I will tell him to-morrow that 
I have a pretty good library at home. It is always 
warmed and lighted, and he is welcome to come and read 
the books when he chooses, and some of them I will loan 
to him. If he comes, I will take pains to go into the 
library sometimes and have a short talk with him and 
ask him to join the Sunday School. I have thought 1 
would hire a pew for those of my employees who would 
like to go to my church. I will do so this week, so that I 
can offer him a seat there, if he has no other church 
home.” 

“ ‘The lady now takes the glass. 

“ ‘ “I see,” she says, “a small room in a narrow street; 
beside a poor fire sits an old lady; on the stove a tiny 
kettle has just begun to sing; near her a round table; on 
it I see one plate, cup, knife and fork, a bowl containing a 
very little sugar, and one cracker on another plate. She 
looks with a smile at the table. 

“‘ “‘Rather a small supper/ she says aloud — being 
much alone, I suppose she has got in the habit of talking 
to herself — ‘but then I am not a large eater. A cup of 
tea would be a comfort, but they say hot water slightly 
sweetened is healthful ; at least it will warm me/ 

“ ‘ “She shivers a little, for her blood is thin, and the 
shawl on her shoulders, too, is thin. 

“ ‘ “Now her face saddens a little and she says, ‘I have 


or Esther's opportunities. 


23 


not even a cracker for breakfast. I never got so low be- 
fore, but doctor’s bill and medicines last month, and 
liniment for my rheumatism this month, has used up all 
my last payment, and there is no pension due until next 
week. My neighbor Mrs. Murray, when she ran in this 
morning before she went to her day’s work — for she 
comes in every morning to see if I want something 
cooked, she is such a kind woman — said, when I told her 
I had not much to cook and should not have any money 
to get more until next week, that she was going to wash 
at Mrs. Clark’s house, and she would ask for something 
for me. She often gives Mrs. Murray nice pieces for her - 
self or her poor neighbors. Perhaps she forgot to ask, for 
she did not know how little I had to eat.’ 

“ ‘ “Now she starts and a glad light illumines her face. 
‘Why,’ she exclaims, ‘I had forgotten something myself ! 
forgotten that I am the daughter of a King who holds the 
hearts of all men in his hand.’ 

“ ‘ “Now she folds her hands reverently, and, looking 
up trustfully, she prays, ‘My King and Father, please 
send me a better supper and some breakfast.’ ” 

“‘Without waiting for the question, the Christian 
woman exclaimed, “I ought to care, and I do !” 

“‘Now standing with downcast eyes, she says: “Mrs. 
Murray did tell me about this woman this morning, but I 
was in haste to go out, so I asked her if it would do to- 
morrow, for I do not allow my cook to send food out of 


24 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


the house. Mrs. Murray replied that she thought likely 
she had enough for a day or two. Now, I will send her 
to-night some of that nice cold meat, some of the beauti- 
ful white biscuits Jane knows so well how to make, a cup 
custard, and she shall have a glass of jelly, too, some tea, 
and milk of course, and some eggs for breakfast, and a 
nice warm shawl that I know of. Come to think of it, I 
will take it to her myself and say to her, ‘Sister, the King, 
our Father, sent me.’ ” 

“ ‘Eagerly her husband takes the glass. He is getting 
waked up. 

“ ‘He says, “I see that young man who is bookkeeper 
next door to my place of business. He is an intelligent, 
gentlemanly young fellow. I often step in to have a chat 
with him. He had just finished his college course, and 
was intending to study a profession, when his father died, 
bankrupt, and he had to find work to earn his bread. An 
uncle of his gives his mother and invalid sister a home, 
but cannot give them much beside ; so this boy gives part 
of his wages each month to them, and tries to save some- 
thing so that he can some time finish his education. In 
the meantime he studies evenings. That is what he is 
doing now in his poorly-furnished room. Now he pushes 
back his book and sighs, and, wonderful glass ! I can read 
his thoughts. ‘I believe I am too tired to study ; it is too 
early to go to bed; I cannot afford to go to the opera. 
Two of the fellows are playing cards in the next room, 


or Esther's opportunities. 


25 


but I promised Mother I would not learn, and I do not 
know what to do with myself. If I was only acquainted 
with one or two nice families, where I could call and see 
the ladies. Some of the clerks have introduced me to 
their sisters, but they did not suit me ; they did not seem 
to me to be exactly ladies, and for my mother’s sake, if for 
no other reason, I will not lower myself by associating 
with those who are not. When I called the other evening 
at Mr. Clark’s house to give him a message from my em- 
ployer, as I waited in the library for him to come down, a 
lady opened the door and looked in. Seeing a stranger, 
she bowed and withdrew. She was about the age of my 
mother and looked so sweet and good that I longed to 
speak to her. I think the truth is, I am hungering and 
thirsting for my mother.’ And the great boy is actually 
wiping his eyes.” 

“ ‘Musingly the Christian says : “Why is it that I never 
thought to ask him to visit us ? I will ask him to tea to- 
morrow, and, come to think, I have four tickets for that 
lecture in the evening, and we can invite him to go with 
us, and I will ask him to go to church with us some time. 
Perhaps we can help him to learn to keep himself ‘un- 
spotted from the world’ for Christ’s sake.” ’ ” 


26 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER IV. 

“ ‘He raises the glass to his eyes again, and exclaims, 
“There is that old man that the runaway horse knocked 
down this morning. A wagon filled with laborers was 
passing at the time. Some of them knew him. One said, 
‘That is hard lines for him, for he is poor. He ought to 
have had a pension from the Government, but somehow 
he can’t get it.’ They offered to carry him home, and, as 
I was in haste, I enquired where he lived, and passed on. 

“ ‘ “He is in a poor room. Near him stands his old 
wife. The doctor goes out ; the wife follows. The doctor 
says, ‘He bore the operation well, but he is very weak ; he 
has had a continual drain on his constitution for years, 
you know — that old wound. He will probably sleep to- 
night from the effects of the powder I gave him, but in 
the morning, and for some time on, he must have very 
strengthening food or he will sink from exhaustion.’ 
The doctor goes out ; the wife lingers in the small hall, 
weeps and wrings her hands, moaning out, ‘How can I 
live without Ezra! We have always been poor, but we 


or Esther's opportunities. 


27 


have been together except during the war, and, however 
poor we have been, I have tried to trust God. But now 
Ezra will die, because I cannot get him the kind of food 
he needs. It seems as tho’ God had forgotten us/ ” 

“ ‘The glass falls from the hand of the tender-hearted 
man and he exclaims, “The old wife shall not lose her 
trust in God’s care ! I will go to-night and carry what 
he needs, and see that they do not want, until he is well ; 
and if I have influence and perseverance enough, he shall 
have his pension.” 

“ ‘ The lady does not wait to be told to look ; her in- 
terest is fully aroused, and she exclaims, “I see those 
children who pass here every day on their way to school, 
I think. I often watch them ; they are so clean and their 
clothes are so much patched. The little man has such a 
protecting way towards the girl, and the mite of a girl 
shows such a womanly care for him. Yesterday, as I 
stood at the corner waiting for the car, they came along, 
hand in hand. Just before they reached the corner, the 
boy, noticing that his sister shivered, stopped, and taking 
from his own neck a woollen scarf, began to put it around 
her neck. She protested ; he insisted, until she said, ‘You 
must keep it on, for you have a sore throat, and Mother 
said you must wear it.’ This last reason seemed sufficient, 
and he tied it around his own neck; but he looked so 
lovingly and pityingly at her that the tears came to my 
own eyes. Now they are climbing a steep flight of stairs ; 


28 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


they enter a small room, where a pale woman sits, sewing. 
She looks up with a sad, sweet smile as they rush to her 
and with arms about her neck kiss her repeatedly. Now 
the girl says, ‘Oh, Mother, I got acquainted to-day with a 
new scholar, and she is so sweet, and she says she loves 
me, and she wants me to go to Sunday School with her, 
and she is going to wear her muff — that is something to 
keep her hands warm, and it is soft just like a little 
pussy, and I can sit side of her and hold the muff some of 
the time. She doesn’t wear it to school, because it is a 
new one ; but she has such thick mittens, and, oh, Mother ! 
she says they will let me take a little book home to read ; 
and if Benny will go, he can have one, too. Won’t that 
be nice !’ 

“ ‘ “Benny sits looking sadly at two great patches on 
his knees. The mother says, with a sigh, ‘I am afraid, 
my darling, your clothes are hardly fit to wear to church • 
but you like to have Sunday School at home with mother 
for teacher, don’t you ?’ ‘Oh, yes ! I like to sing with 
you and brother, and I love dearly to hear you tell Bible 
stories’ — but she says it with a sob. 

“ ‘ “The dear children shall go to Sunday School !” ex- 
claimed the lady. “I will make her a long cloak out of 
that one I don’t wear this winter because short cloaks are 
out of style, and she can have that felt hat of Amy’s that 
I put away so carefully when she outgrew it, because it 
was so pretty, and, yes, she shall have a muff of her own, 


or Esther's opportunities. 


29 


for Amy thinks her last winter’s one is too young-looking 
for her. The boy shall have” — and she wipes the fast- 
falling tears — “that suit that Willie had new just before 
he died. I have kept it from the moths two years, because 
I could not bear to part with it, but I think I can now 
joyfully give it to Christ’s little one.” 

“ ‘She seems to be lost in thought for awhile, but at 
last raises her head and goes on to tell what she sees. 
“There is that young girl who has sat near us in church 
for several months. I have wondered who she was. She 
looks intelligent and amiable, but I have thought some- 
times that she looked sad. There, I seem to be coming 
out of church; she is walking nearly at my side and 1 
can read her thoughts : ‘How many people that lady is 
acquainted with ! How pleased they are to see her !’ and 
she sighs. ‘When I concluded to leave home and come to 
this town to fit myself to be a teacher, I told our old 
pastor, the Sabbath before I left, as I lingered to bid him 
good-bye, that what I dreaded to leave most, next to 
Mother, was the old church; I should so miss the kind 
words and loving hand-clasps of my friends, and his 
faithful sermons. As he held my hand and gave me his 
parting blessing he tried to cheer me by saying, “You 
must, the first thing you do, find a church home, hire a 
seat, and go to church regularly. You will, no doubt, 
find a minister better able to teach you than I am, and 
you will soon find friends, for are not Christians every- 


30 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


where of one family.” Ah ! the good old man was used 
to living in small country towns, and did not know how 
it was in large ones. I have been here regularly every 
Sabbath for six months, and no one has spoken to me. 
The girls at the Institute have their friends, and I have 
to study so hard I have not time to seek acquaintances. 
I am so lonely sometimes I feel that I must go home. It 
will be worse next week, for I shall not even see the girls 
at recitations. I cannot afford to go home Thanksgiving 
week ; it is such a long distance and it costs so much/ 

“ ‘ “She shall not be lonely any more, if I can help it ! 
I will seek her acquaintance. I will ask her to spend 
Thanksgiving week with me, for is she not my sister in 
Christ?” 

“ ‘ “Now,” the angel says, “look at your very feet, in 
your own house.” 

“ ‘And lo ! the roof opens, and she looks into a well- 
known room. It is a pretty room, comfortably furnished 
and warmed. Beside a window sits an old lady, neatly 
clad. In front of her is a small table, on which is a pile 
of patchwork, evenly cut, and some illustrated maga- 
zines, one of which is open at a fine steel engraving. The 
old lady holds in her hand a coarse needle and some 
thread. She has been vainly trying to thread the needle, 
and now drops her hand into her lap with a weary sigh. 
“It is no use,” she says ; “my eyes fail so fast I cannot 
thread needles, and if I could thread this, it is so coarse I 


or Esther's opportunities. 


31 


could not sew neatly with it. If I only had some fine 
needles threaded, I am so used to sewing, I could finish 
that pile of work almost without seeing.” She lays down 
the needle and thread and takes up the book. “This is a 
lovely picture ; I wish I knew what it is about, but the 
print is so fine I cannot read it. Oh, dear ! the days are 
so long. But there ! I ought not to complain. My niece 
is very kind to give me such a comfortable home, and I 
have a large-print Bible; I will read in that about my 
Heavenly home, where God will give me plenty to do, 
and ability to do it.” 

“ ‘ “I know what I will do,” says the lady. “I will go 
in and say, ‘Why, Auntie, what a pile of patchwork you 
have cut. Now, you want to sew it, don’t you? Then I 
will thread your needle ; not that coarse one, but a whole 
paper of the size I know you like, and put them on this 
big cushion all ready for you.’ Then I will take up the 
open book and read the article which is illustrated, and, 
what is more, I will go in every day and do the same, and 
talk with her more than I have been in the habit of do- 
ing ; and, oh !” she says, turning a beaming face to the 
angel, “J hope I shall keep my eyes open to what is going 
on around me, my heart tender to sympathize with and 
my hands ready to help.” 9 

“Then followed such an eloquent appeal to Christians 
to come out of themselves and their own selfish pursuits, 
to open their eyes, ears and hearts to the wants of others ! 


32 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


The lecturer said he knew Christians who were self- 
absorbed, who thought and talked all the time of their 
own feelings. He said with impressive earnestness, ‘Do 
they not know that if the fire of God’s love is in their 
hearts, it will burn and warm themselves and others ; 
that it will shine out and light the path of their weary 
and stumbling neighbors?’ Some people told him they 
had not the time or ability to go into the highways and 
byways and seek out the poor, but they gave their money 
to trained workers, who could do it so much better than 
they could. Well and wise in many cases. ‘This ought 
ye to do and not leave the other undone.’ By the other I 
mean helping those around you: your brothers and 
sisters, parents, children, neighbors and friends. Help 
them with kind words and little helps of hand or brain, 
by being slow to reprove, ready to praise if praise is de- 
served, by sympathizing with them in their innocent pur- 
suits, or, if their pursuits are not innocent, trying gently 
to lead them into better ones, by giving timely bits of 
advice, not whole volumes that will weary and disgust 
them. It is well worth the best efforts of the noblest 
minds to attract young feet that have begun to wander 
in wrong paths, into right ones ; not drive them out on a 
cold, barren plain, but attract them into pleasant paths, 
so following the example of the One who, always intent 
and earnest about ‘His Father’s business,’ yet was 
always ready to help all who needed help. Or, rather, 


or Esther's opportunities. 


33 


was not that a part of the ‘business’ His Father gave Him 
to do? How many instances we have on record of His 
loving help, and we have reason to believe that those not 
on record far, far outnumber them. All those years of 
childhood, youth and early manhood, must have been 
crowded full with helpful deeds and loving words.” 


34 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER y. 

Then her mind wandered to the after-meeting inci- 
dent, when, attended by her cousin’s son, a lad of thir- 
teen, she was passing a brilliantly-lighted saloon, situ- 
ated on the corner of the street down which they were 
obliged to turn to reach home. A man who had been 
leaning against the window reeled forward and, pushing 
the lad aside, said, “Bub, go home to your ma; you are 
too young to be out in the night. I’ll go home with the 
lady.” As she started away from him the boy bravely 
sprang between them. As the man raised his brawny 
arm to strike the lad, she heard a quick step; a hand 
seized the uplifted arm and steadily forced the man 
backward and downward until he was seated on the steps. 

The gentleman held him with one hand, as he quietly 
motioned with the other for her to go on. 

As she started she looked gratefully towards him, and 
noticed that the arm that held the man in spite of his 
struggles seemed like a bar of steel. 

By this time several men had come out of the saloon, 


or Esther's opportunities. 


35 


and one, better dressed than the rest, a slight, pale young 
man, was looking admiringly at the preacher, and as 
she turned the corner she heard him say, “Muscular 
Christianity : now, I like that !” 

They had walked but a short distance when she heard 
again that quick, firm step, and a cheerful voice said, 
“Will you allow me to supplement your young escort? 
If he were as large and strong as he is brave, he would 
need none.” 

As she turned smilingly towards the speaker, he 
stepped to her side, and, as he raised his hat, said, “I saw 
you at the meeting, and I heard you sing ‘Sweet Hour of 
Prayer’. Is Christ your elder brother, too ?” 

She answered promptly and joyfully, “He is.” 

Then he spoke of the beauties of the town, which he 
had evidently pretty well explored during the day ; spoke 
affectionately of his friend the pastor; told Willie h£ be- 
lieved he saw him at the High School in the morning, 
asked him about his studies, asked him if he intended 
that his studies should help to fit him to work for God 
better. 

Willie answered timidly, but earnestly, “I hope so.” 
Then, as they reached their home, he laid his hand on 
the boy’s shoulder and said, lovingly, “I am so glad! 
May He keep you always in the same mind.” 

Then, with a bow and smile, he left them. 

Willie went in with his cousin, and, hastening to his 


36 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


grandmother’s room, stood before her and said, “Grand- 
ma, I am going to be a minister !” 

She smiled and said, “I thought you intended to be a 
lawyer: what has made you change your mind?” 

“You know I want to be a brave, strong man, and I 
thought perhaps ministers were pale and nervous like 
ours, but to-night I saw one strong and brave enough.” 

“My dear boy,” she said, “it is a great blessing to have 
a strong, healthy body; but do you know that many a 
brave, strong spirit inhabits a weak body and makes it do 
more real work for God and man than many strong ones 
do?” 

“Yes, Grandma, and I suppose it is braver to work 
when one is weak than when one is strong, but it would 
not be wrong to pray that God would make me strong in 
body, too, would it ?” 

“No, dear ; I do not think it would be. Pray, and also 
use all necessary means to strengthen your body. Try in 
every way to make it a fit dwelling place for the Holy 
Spirit.” 

At this point in her musings, Esther was aroused by a 
frightened exclamation, uttered by the little boy with 
whom she had shared her luncheon, and she saw that his 
mother was leaning her head on the back of the seat and 
did not respond to his cry of “Mama ! Mama !” 

“What is the matter?” 

Going to her, Esther found she was nearly insensible. 


or Esther’s opportunities. 


37 


Although she raised her eyes, she did not move or 
speak. 

A gentleman near by procured some water, and in a 
few minutes she was somewhat revived, so that she could 
speak when the cars arrived at the depot, and say that 
her home was in the city, and that if she could rest a short 
time in the ladies’ room perhaps she could walk. 

When our Good Samaritan had established her com- 
fortably on a sofa, with her boy beside her, she left, say- 
ing, “I shall come back in a few moments.” 

Then, procuring an oyster stew and a cup of coffee, she 
carried them to her, saying, “I think something warm 
will help you.” 

The lady seemed embarrassed, and at first declined to 
eat, but her new friend said, “Oh, you must, because I 
shall see you safe home before I leave you, and I want to 
go on in the next train.” 

“Why ! don’t you live in the city ?” 

“No; about ten miles out.” 

“And I have detained you. I am so sorry.” 

“Never mind that. Eat the stew while it is hot.” 

Thus pressed, she obeyed, while her helper seemed 
absorbed in a daily paper, which she purchased for a 
pretence, although in truth she was thinking, “Could it be 
possible that she was faint from hunger and had no 
money.” 

Going swiftly out, she engaged a carriage to wait her 
orders. 


'38 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


On returning, she found the food and drink had dis- 
appeared. Her patient looked much better and thought 
she would try to get home. 

They walked slowly out to the door, where the hack 
was waiting, and as the man opened the door Esther 
tried to help the lady in, but she hung back, saying some- 
thing about “expense” and “she could walk.” With 
gentle force she was put in, her boy beside her, and, ask- 
ing for her street and number, which she gave to the 
driver, Esther entered, saying, “He is to take me to my 
train after he takes you home.” 

It was a short distance only. The driver rang the door- 
bell. An old woman came to the door. On being ad- 
dressed as Hannah, she hurried out to the hack. Then 
the lady turned, with tearful eyes, to thank the one who 
had cared for her so like a sister, and to say something 
about pay for carriage hire ; but she was interrupted, her 
hand gently taken by her new friend, who said, “Do not 
speak of it ; it is all a pleasure to me, and I shall come to 
the city next week ; may I call and see if you are better ?” 

The lady’s face lighted up with pleasure as she said, 
“Oh, will you? I should be so much pleased; but you 
do not know my name,” and taking a card from her bag, 
received one in return, and was helped into the house by 
Hannah. 


OK ESTHERS OPPORTUNITIES. 


39 


CHAPTER VI. 

The scene changes to the pleasant house mentioned in 
the first chapter. A carriage stops at the door, a lady 
alights and enters the house. Aunt Esther has arrived. 

She is met in the hall by her brother’s entire family. 
Mrs. Selby presents her cheek to be kissed. Arthur 
shakes hands heartily and looks pleased, as, indeed, he is. 
Annie hugs and kisses her, and her brother puts his arm 
around her and draws her closely to him, saying, softly, 
“Queenie, dear Queenie.” 

She flushes with pleasure as she looks up to him and 
says, “How good it is to hear my pet name again.” 

I think I hear the reader exclaim, “They really seem 
to be glad to see her”; and they are. They love their 
aunt. They could not help it, she is so lovable. 

Then why did they say what they did when they heard 
she was coming ? 

Because they had learned to like to do certain things 
that they knew she did not approve, and her presence, 
they feared, would be a restraint. 


40 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


It is four days since Aunt Esther arrived. She is 
sitting in the library, a book in her hand, a workbasket 
beside her. It is nearly noon. 

Arthur lounges in. He looks rather sleepy and de- 
cidedly cross. He seats himself at his desk and opens a 
book, reads a line or two, frowns, consults a lexicon, 
translates another line, scowls this time, leans back in 
his chair, looks at the wall, yawns, looks at his book, says 
‘Mother !” shuts it with a bang, turns around on his chair 
and exclaims, "It’s no use; I can’t study. Talk to me, 
Auntie, will you ?” 

With a pleasant smile, she puts down her book, takes 
a bit of work from her basket — for, like some other 
women, she can talk better when her hands are busy — 
and says, "Well, and what shall I talk about ?” 

"Oh ! I don’t know — yes, I do, too. Tell me why you 
object to card playing.” 

"Let me see,” she said, musingly, "this is your second 
year in college, isn’t it ?” 

"Yes.” 

"And you don’t get along very well with your studies 
this year, do you ?” 

"Ho! and I don’t see why it is. When I was in the 
High School, study was just play to me, and the first of 
last year I got along well, but this year it is all a con- 
founded drag.” 

"Are you very much behind your class in your 
studies ?” 


oe Esther's opportunities. 


41 


“Yes, ever so much, and if I don’t study up this vaca- 
tion, I shall be dropped.” 

“And you would not like that ?” 

“Of course not ! What would Father say ?” 

“And yet you don’t seem to study to-day.” 

“Who would expect a fellow to study when he has such 
a confounded headache ?” 

“What makes your head ache? I used to think you 
were a healthy boy.” 

“Perhaps it was caused by sitting up so late at Annie’s 
whist party.” 

“But you sat up as late the night of my arrival, and 
yet were ready for study next morning. Perhaps it was 
the excitement of the games and the wine you drank.” 

“Perhaps I did drink a little too much wine, but it is 
awfully dry work playing cards at a party.” 

“Then why do you attend the parties at all, if you are 
anxious to study and you know it unfits you. If you 
intended to run in a race, you would not put on a large, 
heavy coat, and if a light one incommoded you, I think 
you would take it off. Do you go to many card parties 
in term time ?” 

“No, not parties, but the fellows in our entry play 
sometimes evenings.” 

“About how many evenings in a week ?” 

“Sometimes four or five.” 

“But you do not keep it up late, do you ?” 


42 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“When we get very much interested, we play until 
twelve or so.” 

“Begin at eight or before : four hours — four or five — 
four times a week : four times four are sixteen. Sixteen 
hours a week spent in handling painted cards, and one of 
the results a headache in the morning unfitting you for 
study. Do you think it pays ? Do you see now some of 
the reasons that I have for thinking you ought not to 
play cards ?” 

The next week Esther went to the city and called on 
her fellow traveller, as she had promised. She found 
her looking more ill, if possible, than before, but she 
welcomed her warmly, talked with animation and flu- 
ency, and altogether proved herself a very agreeable and 
intelligent companion. Esther was much pleased with 
her and readily promised to come again without cere- 
mony, as the invalid said she did not feel well enough to 
return her call. 

Thursday, Esther went shopping. Now this was a 
very pleasant occupation to her. It is to most women 
who have full purses, but it was more especially so to her, 
for she not only had a full purse, but she had many 
friends whose purses were nearly empty, so she delighted 
to buy pretty and useful things for them. Somehow or 
other they never were offended, even the most sensitive 
of them, for they knew she loved them ; and gifts of love 
are precious : besides, she had tact. 



‘he was about ten years of age.” 


(p. 43) 











or Esther's opportunities. 


43 


Now, shopping takes time, and before she knew it the 
morning was gone. 

Fearing that the family would wait dinner for her, 
and as it was a matter of principle with her not to incom- 
mode her friends by being unpunctual, she decided to re- 
turn by a back street which she seldom used, since, 
although it shortened her walk, it was not a pleasant 
street. 

As she walked swiftly along, a boy by the side of the 
road uttered a string of oaths that shocked her so much 
she stopped suddenly and looked at him. 

He was about ten years of age. His clothes were very 
much patched and his face and hands very dirty. 
Another boy, quite a large one, had caught off his hat, 
thrown it in a pool of water, and now stood laughing. 

As the small boy tried to wipe the mud and water from 
what was evidently his best article of clothing, his tor- 
menter said, “It is better for ye now, bubby ! It was too 
good intirely for the loikes of ye before.” 

This speech called out a fresh volley of oaths. 

When he at last stopped, and was looking angrily at the 
boy as he moved away, Esther said, “Are you well 
acquainted with Him ?” 

Startled by her solemn tone, he looked confused and 
said, “Who do you mean, Pat Murphy ? I know him as 
well as I want to.” 

“No; I mean that other One, you have been calling 


44 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


upon to punish that boy. Do you think you are so much 
of a friend to Him that He will punish the boy because 
you ask Him ?” 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Don’t you know who you were calling upon ? Who 
God is?” 

No answer. 

“Did you ever go to Sunday School ?” 

“Yes; long ago, when Father was alive, and I had 
decent clothes.” 

“Did you hear about God there ?” 

“I suppose so, but I guess I’ve forgotten.” 

“Haven’t you a Bible ?” 

“No; we used to have one, but Mother sold that last 
year. I think we were about starving that time.” 

“Have you a mother now ?” 

“Yes.” 

“And doesn’t she tell you about God and the Bible ?” 

“No; she don’t get time, and I guess she has forgotten, 
too.” This with a saucy look and loud laugh. 

“Where do you live ?” 

“Down that alley.” 

“Do you think your mother would let me come and see 
her?” 

“You go there !” astonished and incredulous. 

“I would like to come soon if you will tell me the 
name and number.” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


45 


He had recovered himself by this time, and, with a low 
bow, said, “Mrs. Sally Grant would be happy to receive 
you at her palace, No. 5 Dog Alley.” 

The next day, accompanied by a friend who was in the 
habit of going among the poor a great deal, she fulfilled 
her promise to call in Dog Alley. 

As they approached the open door of No. 5, they heard 
a boyish voice say, “Mother, there's your caller,” and the 
speaker met them at the door, and asked them in. As 
they entered a room at the left, he bowed low and said to 
a woman who stood there as if transfixed with surprise, 
“Mrs. Sally Grant, this is the lady who asked me ques- 
tions.” 

“You did not say she asked you questions when you 
told me yesterday !” Then, recovering a little, she offered 
chairs to the ladies, and, when they were seated, said, 
“I hope you will excuse me for acting so stupidly. Josie 
came in yesterday and told me I must get out my best 
gown for to-day, because a lady was going to call at the 
palace (he amuses himself by calling this poor room the 
palace), but I thought he was only joking, for he is full 
of fun. Then, this morning, he got up earlier than usual, 
and said we must fix up for our company. I told him if 
there was any fixing done, he would have to do it, for I 
had a job of work that I must finish before night. So he 
went to work scrubbing and cleaning, and see ! aren't the 
windows beautifully clear — but all the time I thought it 
was his fun or an excuse to help me.” 


46 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“Then he did not tell you what questions I asked 
him?” 

“No; he did not say anything about the questions 
until just now.” 

“I was sorry to hear him swear, and one of the ques- 
tions I asked was, Had he a Bible? He said you were 
obliged to sell yours last winter, so I brought one for 
you, and I should like to know if there is anything more 
that I can do for you.” 

The woman blushed as she said, “I tell J osie he ought 
not to swear. His father never swore, and my father did 
not. But, there are so many bad boys around here, that 
is all the kind of talk he hears outside, and the boys pro- 
voke him so that he has got into the habit of answering 
them in the same way. He doesn’t very often swear at 
home.” 

Then she added, with tears in her eyes, “It did come 
hard on me to have to sell the Bible, for it was Mother’s 
Bible.” 

Being kindly questioned, she went on to tell her 
troubles. 

“My mother died when I was twelve, and I kept house 
for Father until I was eighteen; then I married a young 
man who boarded at our house one summer. Father did 
not want me to marry him, because he thought his health 
was not good and he would not be able to support me. 
But we loved each other ; so we were married, and went to 


or Esther's opportunities. 


47 


the city. He was real smart, and earned good wages 
when he was well, but his lungs were weak, he took cold 
easily, and at last he got a severe one that settled on his 
lungs, and he died three years ago. 

“He was sick so long that we used up nearly all we had 
saved. I had to sell all my pretty things, hire one room, 
and try to earn a living for Josie and myself. 

“I thought at first I would go back to my native town, 
but Father was dead, and the old place sold, and I felt 
rather ashamed to go back so poor. I have wished many 
a time since that I had, but I have not seen one time since 
that I had money enough to pay for moving.” 

Being asked if she would like to go now, she said, “Yes, 
indeed ! I think I could get work enough to do there, 
perhaps Josie could work on some farm, the rent would 
be less, and Josie would not hear so many bad words” — 
this with a pleased excitement, which left her as she 
added, “but it is no use thinking of it, for it would cost 
so much.” 

The ladies spoke encouragingly, telling her they would 
see what could be done, and bade her good-bye, Esther 
saying, “I hope you will get time to read the Book.” 

As she sat musing on the event of the morning, Esther 
said to herself, “Sally Burt, Blueville. That is the town 
where my friend Jennie lives. I will write and ask her 
to ascertain if the woman’s story is true, and if it is, if 
there is a room or two that can be hired for her.” 


48 


OUGHT WE TO CAKE 


As our friend never allowed procrastination to steal 
her time, she wrote that evening. 


oe Esther's opportunities. 


49 


CHAPTER VII. 

On her next visit to the city Esther called again on her 
car acquaintance. The father was at home this time: a 
fine gentlemanly man, but looking rather sad and care- 
worn. As his daughter introduced him Esther recog- 
nized the name as belonging to the senior member of a 
firm which had failed in business a few months before. 
She remembered hearing her brother say, “It was an 
honorable failure, for they gave up every cent to the 
creditors.” 

He seemed pleased to see her, and, as he shook hands, 
said, “I knew your father well.” 

The lady did not talk so much this time. She looked 
very sad and seemed to speak with an effort. 

At last Esther said to the father, “I fear your daughter 
does not get well very fast. As she is a sort of a patient of 
mine, allow me to suggest that country air might do her 
good.” 

He looked anxiously at his daughter as he said, “Do 
you think it would do her any good ?” Then he added, 


50 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“Perhaps it would.” Turning to his grandson, who 
stood by his chair, his head resting against his grand- 
father’s shoulder, he continued, “At least it would be 
good for this little man to run in the fields ; he is looking 
pale, and is too quiet for a boy,” and he stroked his hair 
caressingly. Then, rising, he said, “Well, Willie, it is 
time for me to go,” and thanking Esther for her call, he 
said, “I hope you will be so kind as to come and see my 
daughter often,” and, with a bow and “good evening,” he 
left the room, followed by his grandson. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, the lady said, 
hurriedly, “Please don’t say anything to Father about 
sending me to board in the country, for he cannot afford 
to do so, and, besides, it would do no good. What makes 
me ill is worrying, and” — bursting into tears — “I never 
shall get better until I hear from my husband.” 

As she saw a questioning look in her visitor’s eyes, she 
exclaimed, “Oh, I can’t tell you about it, but pity me, for 
I am in great trouble !” 

Esther passed swiftly to her side, and, putting her arm 
around her, drew her poor head to her shoulder, letting 
her weep unquestioned. 

When she had become a little calmer, Esther left, say- 
ing she would come again soon, and adding, “May God 
help and comfort you.” 

She found the old servant waiting in the hall. As she 
opened the door for Esther, she said, “Oh, my dear young 


or Esther’s opportunities. 


51 


lady, can’t we do something for the poor dear? She is 
worrying herself into the grave. If you think it would 
help her to go into the country, she can go. I have lived 
ever so many years with her father, and when he was rich 
I had good pay, and have laid by a good deal. It is in 
the bank. I can get it any time.” 

Esther answered, “I am sure you will do all you can for 
her. I will see what can be done and let you know.” 

During her ride home she felt a great longing to help 
her afflicted sister, and she at last decided that a change 
would help her, for evidently she put a restraint on her- 
self before her father, fearing to trouble him, and it 
would be better to be where she would feel more free. 

But how to bring it about was the question. 

All at once, like an inspiration, she remembered the 
Heartly farm. 

When a child of eleven years of age she had spent sev- 
eral months there. She had had one of the disorders 
that children are subject to, and did not seem to recover 
strength, so the doctor prescribed country air and fresh 
milk. How happy she was there ! How quickly she grew 
strong and well ! How well she remembered Mrs. 
Heartly’s sensible, motherly face ! For a long time she 
had promised herself the pleasure of a visit to her. She 
would go to-morrow and surprise her. 

Having notified her brother’s family, and made ar- 
rangements before retiring, she started on an early train 
for the Heartly farm. 


52 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


She received a cordial welcome on her arrival, and 
soon they were seated in the well-known sitting room, 
chatting pleasantly. 

One thing that is very pleasant about farm sitting 
rooms is that they are not apt to change. We expect to 
see changes in parlors every year or so. New window 
draperies, different wall hangings, the carpets changed 
for rugs, the engravings for etchings to suit the prevail- 
ing style, so that, after a short absence, the room that we 
remembered almost as an old friend, on our return seems 
like a stranger. 

But the farm sitting room, with its plain carpet, old- 
fashioned desk, tall clock in the corner, bright flowers in 
the window, roomy, home-made lounge, and sunny out- 
look, greets one, after years of absence, like the face of a 
friend. 

It is in such a room that the friends are sitting. We can 
listen to their talk without giving offence. 

Mrs. Heartly says, “I am the only one at home this 
afternoon. Father” (she means, of course, her husband) 
“has gone to the store for groceries.” 

“And where is Susie ?” 

“Oh ! she is married, and lives in Boston. Her hus- 
band is a merchant.” 

“And the baby — little May ?” 

“Little May !” with an amused laugh ; “she is not little 
now, but a tall, dignified schoolmarm. You will see her 
in about an hour, when school is out.” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


53 


“And John: I remember him as a boy who liked to 
study so well that I had to coax hard when I wanted him 
to go nutting with me, but, also, when he did go, would 
climb like a squirrel, and insist on bringing both full 
baskets home, leaving me free to gather an armful of 
flowers.” 

“Yes, he never was lazy, but he liked study best of all. 
Now he is a minister of the blessed gospel. He was a 
good boy. He is a good man. I have always thought it 
was through your means, in a measure, that he gained an 
education.” 

“My means !” said Esther, in astonishment. 

“I will tell you about it. John had been studying at 
home after he left the District School, and reciting to our 
pastor. That summer you boarded with us, our pastor 
told him he thought a year's study at an academy would 
fit him for college. The nearest one was in Aimwell, ten 
miles from here. He would have to pay board and 
tuition. 

“Now, we got a good living from the farm, but could 
not lay up money, and did not see how we could send him. 
I thought it over and over, and could not see how it could 
be done. 

“At last, one afternoon, I was sitting alone, and feel- 
ing so nearly discouraged that I laid my head on the table 
and cried. You had been out picking wild flowers, and 
came in exclaiming, ‘0 Auntie' — you used to like to call 


54 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


me Auntie — ‘just see what pretty flowers I have found/ 
Pausing, when I did not raise my head, and coming 
softly towards me, you saw that I was crying. Then, 
sitting down beside me, you took my hand and said, 
lovingly, ‘What is the matter. Auntie, dear ?’ I raised my 
head, and drew you closely to me as I said, ‘I want some- 
thing very much, and I don’t see how I can get it/ 
‘Don’t cry, dear Auntie,’ you said, ‘for Mother says our 
Heavenly Father will give His children anything they 
need, if they can’t get it themselves/ 

“Giving me a kiss, you went to put your flowers in 
water. I sat and pondered your words. ‘How sure she 
seems to be on that subject.’ Then I thought, ‘Was that 
a message sent to me by my Father ? Is it true that I am 
His child?’ And I could answer to myself, honestly, T 
believe I am. Then can’t I get it for myself ? Perhaps 
He will show me how to get what I want.’ 

“I prayed that He would, and the answer came. 

“You know that your mother was a schoolmate of 
mine ; but after I came here to live I seldom saw her until 
that summer, when she brought you to me, asking if I 
would take you to board awhile. 

“I was very glad to have you, and would not hear of 
having pay, but your mother insisted, saying she was 
abundantly able and should not feel right to have you 
stay unless I would consent. 

“Father was sitting by, and at last he said, laughing, 


or Esther's opportunities. 


55 


‘As she insists, you can lay by the money to buy you a 
silk gown.’ 

“I was rather pleased with the idea of having a silk 
dress. I had one when I was married, but it was worn 
out, and I had not bought another. 

“Your mother paid once in two weeks, when she came 
to see if you were improving in health. I bought a few 
delicacies for the table, on your account, with some of 
the money, but the most of it I laid by for the silk dress. 

“Now, I thought to myself, ‘Why did I not think of it 
before ? It will be quite a sum in the fall, enough to give 
J ohn quite a start at the academy, and if I can keep one 
boarder this summer, why can’t I, next summer, take 
two or three ?’ 

“I told your mother, and she sent two the next spring. 
They advised others to come. I hired a neighbor’s girl 
to help. John helped when he was at home in the long 
vacations, and he got writing and one thing and another 
to do, so that he went through college and the theological 
seminary very comfortably. 

“I must tell you that I proved your words true in both 
particulars. One year our crops failed, and we had to 
use the board money to buy groceries. I feared we could 
not give John any help that year; but an old gentleman, 
who boarded here two summers, died, and in his will was 
this clause: ‘Being grateful to Mrs. Heartly for her 
tender care of me for two summers, when I was much in 


56 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


need of care, also to all the members of her family for 
their kind attentions and efforts to cheer me, I give and 
bequeath to the said Susan Heartly, the sum of five hun- 
dred dollars, to help educate that bright son of hers, 
knowing this to be the wish of her heart/ 

“You see, that made it all right. 

“Yes, He will give His children everything they need. 
I often wonder at His abounding goodness to me, 
especially in giving me such good children. Why should 
I be so much more favored than some of my neighbors, 
Mrs. Weston, for instance.” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


57 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“Do you remember the Westons, our next neighbors ?" 

“There was a boy about J ohn's age, I think. He used 
to come here for John, to go fishing. His father would 
let him go because he generally brought home a few fish 
for the table, and that saved money. His name was Tim- 
othy, but everyone called him Tim. I did not like him 
very well, for he used to be rough with that dear little 
kitten you had then ; and when you painted some daisies 
on a card for my birthday, he poohed at them and said I 
could not sell them for money. I liked Mrs. Weston, she 
was so kind and pleasant, and she used to give me some 
of the nicest cookies that I ever ate ; but I was afraid of 
Mr. Weston, he used to speak so sharply to Tim, and once, 
when his wife asked if I would like an early apple, he 
spoke up quickly and said, ‘They have plenty of apples 
over at HeartlysY After he went out, Mrs. Weston said, 
‘I don't think they have any of this kind, dear/ and put 
two beauties in my pocket." 

“Yes," said Mrs. Heartly, “he is a very close man, and 


58 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


he brought up his son to think that money was of more 
importance than anything else. He was so strict and 
stern, even harsh, that Tim, after awhile, hated to stay at 
home, so he got a place as errand boy in a large store in 
the city, and came home very seldom. It grieved his 
mother very much to have her only son stay away from 
home so much, but she could not blame him, for she is a 
timid woman, and, I think, is really afraid of her hus- 
band — not that he ill-treats her, unless cross looks and 
cross words are ill treatment. Well; Tim staid in that 
store, and rose slowly until he was head-bookkeeper. He 
saved money every year, and received a good salary, when 
he became a bookkeeper. He married the daughter of a 
man who was doing a large business then. But he was 
not satisfied, he was not making money fast enough, so 
one time he came home and wanted his father to lend him 
five hundred dollars. He knew of a chance where, by 
investing what money he had and five hundred more, he 
could double his money twice over in less than six 
months, but he must have the additional hundreds or he 
could do nothing. His father refused ; he was not going 
to risk his hard-earned money in speculation. Tim was 
provoked. His father got angry. They quarrelled, and 
the son went away, declaring that he never would darken 
his father’s door again. A short time afterward he wrote 
to his mother, begging her to get five hundred dollars for 
him within two days; if she could not, he would be a 


or Esther's opportunities. 


59 


ruined man. She tried to persuade her husband to let 
Tim have it, but he set his face as a flint and would not 
give in to her tears or entreaties. A few days after, we 
heard that Timothy, or Clarke Weston, as he called him- 
self (his name was Timothy Clarke Weston, but after he 
had been in the city awhile he dropped the Timothy), had 
forged a note for five hundred dollars, and invested it, 
with his savings, in a scheme which had utterly failed. 
His crime had come to light, and he had fled from the 
country to escape the consequences. They have not heard 
from him since. I do pity his mother and young wife so 
much.” 

Mrs. Heartly noticed that at one point of her recital 
her visitor took from the table a small hand bag and 
took from it a card. 

As she finished, Esther asked, “Where is the wife 
now?” 

“The last I heard, she was in Burlington, Vermont. 
That was where the scheme was to be carried out, and 
they moved there a short time before he left the country.” 

Esther then handed the card to her friend, saying, “I 
think I met his wife and child on the cars when I came 
from Vermont.” 

“This is certainly one of Tim’s wedding cards — ‘Mr. 
and Mrs. Clarke Weston/ Where did you get it ?” 

“It was given to me by Mrs. Clarke Weston, in ex- 
change for one of my visiting cards. I presume it was 
the only kind she had.” 


60 


OUGHT WE TO CAKE 


She then gave an account of the adventure, which we 
have related. 

Mr. Heartly returned in season for the noon meal, and, 
after greeting Miss Selby, turned to his wife, saying, 
“Well, Mother, how long is it since you have had a foreign 
correspondent ?" 

Laughing at her comical look of astonishment, he 
handed her a letter with the Liverpool postmark. 

She opened it, hurriedly glanced over it ; then, looking 
at her visitor, said, “Dear Miss Selby, did we not, both 
of us, pray that the poor young wife might soon hear 
from her husband ? ‘Bef ore ye call I will answer .’ 99 
Then saying, “I know I may allow you to read this,” she 
handed her the letter. 

It was written in a hospital in Liverpool, by the attend- 
ing physician, and ran thus : 

“Mrs. Heartly, 

“Dear Madam : I write at the request of a patient in 
this hospital. He was brought here from the steamer by 
a gentleman who made the voyage with him. He was 
suffering from brain fever. The gentleman informed me 
that the patient registered his name as Emis Jones, but 
that, from certain things he said in his delirium, he 
thought it was an assumed name. He also asked me if I 
would see that he was provided with whatever extra care 
he might need, also with any delicacies that would be of 
benefit to him when he was getting better, and he would 


or Esther's opportunities. 


61 


repay me when he returned from the Continent. At the 
same time he gave me his card and address, ‘Justian MeL 
vill, D. D., New York, U. S. of America/ The captain 
of the steamer visited the hospital before he returned, 
and gave me further particulars. ‘Emis Jones, as he 
called himself, had taken a steerage passage, but was 
dressed and appeared like a gentleman. He seemed very 
much depressed, and I kept watch of him, fearing that he 
was going to be ill, but he was not taken down until the 
voyage was about half over. Then I mentioned the case 
to the Rev. Dr. Melvill. He visited him in the steerage, 
had him removed to his own state room, and took care of 
him the rest of the voyage. The patient would say over 
and over in his delirium, “The way of the transgressor is 
hard,” in a most despairing tone. The reverend doctor 
would repeat verses of poetry, passages of scripture, or 
sing softly, trying to soothe him. One day he was repeat- 
ing “Like as a father pitieth his children,” when the 
patient exclaimed, violently, “Stop ! fathers don't pity 
their children.” Then, to try him, the doctor repeated, 
“As one whom his mother comforteth so will I comfort 
you.” He grew calm instantly, and, murmuring, 
“Mother comforteth, Mother comforteth,” slept a more 
restful sleep than he had had during his illness/ The 
patient did not cease to be delirious until yesterday, and 
is too weak to say more than a few words at a time, but 
the first use he made of his returning power of speech was 


62 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


to say to me, ‘Write — wife — mother/ I told him to wait 
until to-day and I would write for him. I asked him to- 
day to whom I should direct the letter. He gave me your 
address. I then asked him if that was his mother. He 
shook his head and said, ‘She — let — mother — read/ He 
then asked for pencil and paper. I told him he could not 
write, but he said ‘must/ As he seemed so persistent, I 
thought it would hurt him less to try than it would to 
worry, so I told him he must write but a few words, and I 
stood by to see that he did not. The enclosed directed to 
‘Wife’ is what he wrote. You can inform his friends 
that he is well cared for. Some Christian people who are 
in the habit of visiting the hospital once a week have 
become interested in him. One, a merchant, came in to- 
day, and, seeing that he was rational, asked if he could do 
anything for him. He said, very earnestly, ‘Work — 
when — able/ at the same time smiling faintly as he held 
up and looked at his thin, weak hands. The gentleman 
assured him that he would see that he had employment 
when he was well enough to work, adding, ‘Your hands 
look as though they had been used to writing/ He 
looked up, quickly, and said, ‘bookkeeper/ The gentle- 
man then said, encouragingly, ‘You will soon be at work, 
for I will see that you get a situation/ Any letter en- 
closed in an envelope directed to me will reach him. 

“Yours, etc., 

“St. Cuthbert’s Hospital, Liverpool” 


OR ESTHER S OPPORTUNITIES. 


63 


CHAPTER IX. 

After dinner Mrs. Heartly and her visitor called on 
Mrs. Weston, taking the letter. They decided, before 
starting, that if Mr. Weston was present, Esther should 
relate the incident on the cars, and not give the letter to 
Mrs. Weston until she was alone. 

Mr. Weston met them at the gate. He was evidently 
going out, but returned and entered the house with them. 

As he ushered them into the sitting room he said, with 
unusual animation, “Mother, here is little Esther Selby 
come to see you.” 

His wife came to meet her with outstretched hand and 
smiling face, saying, “I am so glad to see you, but you 
are not little now.” 

“No,” she answered; “I have grown some since I saw 
you last, but I don't think I have outgrown my liking 
for those nice little cookies you used to make, or,” turn- 
ing to the farmer with a roguish look, “those fine early 
apples.” 

Then they asked where she had been all those years. 


64 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


When she stated that she had lived for the last few 
years in Vermont, the mother’s face lighted up, and she 
said, eagerly, “What town in Vermont?” 

She was evidently disappointed at the answer. The 
sad look, which seemed to be habitual to her, returned, 
and it was her husband who seemed to be the most inter- 
ested in Esther’s account of her journey in the cars and 
of the lady and her boy. 

The narrator purposely said a good deal about the boy, 
his winning ways and pale, delicate looks. She told also 
of her calls on them, and how much they evidently needed 
good country air and food. 

Then she handed the card to Mrs. Weston. 

“Why, it is Tim’s wedding card! That must have 
been his wife and little boy,” she cried. Then, handing 
the card to her husband, she said, pleadingly, “Do let me 
send for them to come here and stay awhile.” 

The farmer shifted his feet uneasily, looked at the 
card, then at his wife, then back to the card ; finally ris- 
ing, he said to his wife, “You can if you want to,” and 
went out, hastily. 

At this point Esther turned to her friend, saying, “I 
think you said that J ane Morse still lives at the old place. 
I think I will call and see her this afternoon, for you 
remember, don’t you, that we were almost inseparable 
the summer I boarded with you, and as I shall return in 
the morning, this will be my only chance, and, Mrs. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


65 


Weston, I intend to call on your son’s wife as I pass 
through the city. Shall I have the pleasure of carrying 
your invitation to visit you ? I think it would do her so 
much good.” 

She had noticed that Mrs. Heartly at first looked dis- 
appointed, but soon gave her an approving smile and 
nod, and received a smile in return, for they both 
thought of that little note with “Wife” in crooked letters 
on the outside, evidently written with trembling fingers, 
and they felt anxious that it should reach its destination 
soon. 

“Oh ! if you would be so kind, I should be so thank- 
ful !” was the answer. 

Then, asking to be excused, she went into the adjoin- 
ing room, and, quickly returning, handed her a bank- 
note, saying, “Do you think that will be enough to pay 
their fare ?” 

At the same time she laid her hand on Esther’s 
shoulder, saying, timidly, “May I kiss you? I want to 
because you have been so kind to his wife and child.” 

Miss Selby was welcomed warmly by her former play- 
mate. She found her as round, rosy, merry and affec- 
tionate as she was when a child. They chatted pleasantly 
for half an hour, recalling many happy hours of walking, 
riding, or playing. 

As Esther rose to go, saying that Mrs. Heartly was 
waiting for her, Jane said, “I am so glad that you called 


66 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


to see me, and am almost as glad that you are not mar- 
ried, for,” with a musical laugh, “you know the saying, 
‘Misery loves company’ — not that I think we are miser- 
able ; at least, I do not think we look so ; but sometimes 
I do feel rather alone. You see, all my old mates are 
gone or married, and they call me an old maid. I do not 
feel old, but, you know, 1 had to stay and take care of 
Father and Mother. They were old, and I was the only 
one to care for them, though to be sure,” she said, laugh- 
ing again, “I never had an offer. I always think that 
girls who boast of having many offers of marriage cannot 
have behaved just right. They must encourage the at- 
tentions of the men or they would not propose, and I 
think it is wrong to do so if one does not intend to accept. 
I am sure it has always been well understood that I 
would not leave Father and Mother. Now Father has 
gone, and Mother is as helpless as a child.” 

She had spoken in a low tone, for her aged mother 
sat dozing in an easy chair, her wrinkled hands, still 
holding her knitting, dropped in her lap. 

Miss Selby parted with her friend at the door, receiv- 
ing a warm embrace, and was followed by entreaties to 
“come again.” 

As she approached the house where she had left Mrs. 
Heartly, Esther saw her coming through the hall to meet 
her, and paused at the gate. 

As she did so Mr. Weston came up, and, placing a 


or Esther's opportunities. 


67 


small fancy basket in her hand, said, “Some of those 
apples you used to like,” and, without waiting for 
thanks, hurried back to the barn. 

On their return, as Esther finished giving some ac- 
count of her call on Jane, her friend said, “Yes, it was 
well known that she would not leave her parents, and it 
is also believed that Hiram Johnson has remained a 
bachelor for her sake, and it is surmised that now he will 
try to convince her that two can take better care of her 
mother than one. 

“Mrs. Weston was much affected by the letter, although 
I prepared her as well as I could before I gave it to her. 
I thought at one time she would faint, but, of course, the 
news was much better than none, for the suspense was 
wearing her out.” 

After an early tea, Esther, accompanied by May, went 
out to visit some of the places that had been dear to her 
childhood. 

The large tree in the orchard where J ohn had put up 
a swing for her, where she had swayed gently back and 
forth in the cool shade many hours when it was uncom- 
fortably warm elsewhere. The large rock with a hollow 
in one side, which she called her cave and where she used 
to arrange her treasures of shells and pretty bits of 
china — some of them rivaling the cracked cups or plates, 
that modern collectors rave about. The fragrant hay- 
mow where she used to hunt for hens’ nests, or play hide- 


68 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


and-seek with her mates. The brook where she fished for 
little shining trout with a line and bent pin. How un- 
altered they all were ! They were like the faces of faith- 
ful friends. 

As she entered the sitting room alone, on her return in 
the twilight, Mrs. Weston sat there, weeping. 

Her friend sat beside her, holding her hand, and say- 
ing, with the confidence of assured faith, “My dear 
friend, it will all come right soon. Only trust in the 
Lord, and He shall bring it to pass. You know your 
grandchild is coming, and ‘A little child shall lead 
them’" 

As Mrs. Weston saw Esther, she came to meet her, and 
took her hand in both of hers, saying, earnestly, “You 
will give my love to them and ask them to come just as 
soon as they can.” 

Then, with a hasty good-bye, she went out. 

“Poor woman,” said Mrs. Heartly, as the door closed 
behind her caller; “it seems that her husband had for- 
bidden her to speak of her son to him, but, after we left, 
she ventured to tell him that I had heard from Tim. He 
angrily told her he did not want to hear anything about 
him, adding, ‘He has disgraced me.’ The poor woman 
is almost broken-hearted, fearing that he never will for- 
give her son.” 

The next morning Esther started on her mission of 
love. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


69 


She told the Heartlys, when they expressed their sor- 
row that she could not stay longer, that she had intended 
to stay three or four days, and when they earnestly in- 
vited her to come again soon, and make them a long visit, 
she readily promised. 


?0 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER X. 

This time Esther did not take a carriage to Mrs. Clarke 
Weston’s door, but forced herself to make some needed 
purchases, although she was eager to carry to her the 
good news. 

Mrs. Weston was sitting at the window, looking list- 
lessly at the passers, when she caught sight of her new 
friend walking swiftly towards the house. 

She rose quickly, and was at the door to welcome her 
when she reached it. 

After they were seated, Mrs. Weston exclaimed, “How 
animated you look ! Have you heard good news ? It is 
not possible that — you — have news for — me !” 

She turned pale and began to tremble. 

Her friend hastened to say, with a smile, “I have seen 
your husband’s mother. I went to Aimwell to visit an 
old friend, and your mother-in-law is her next neighbor. 
I used to know her, so I called to see her, and she has sent 
an invitation by me to you. She wants you to come and 
make her a visit, and the last thing she said to me was, 


or Esther's opportunities. 


71 


'Give them my love and ask them to come just as soon as 
they can’.” Ada — Mrs. Weston — looked pleased for a 
moment, and, before the old sad look could come back, 
Esther said, "Yesterday Mrs. Heartly heard from your 
husband, and here is a note from him.” 

Oh ! the eager, hungry look with which she seized the 
note, and as the falling tears prevented the reading, she 
dashed them away impatiently. 

Esther turned and looked out of the window, so as not 
to embarrass her friend. 

Soon an arm stole round her waist, and the young 
wife’s head lay on her shoulder as she said, "Thank God, 
and you, my dear friend, for this. Now tell me what 
Mrs. Heartly heard.” 

As Esther told her about the doctor’s letter, she wept, 
but the tears were thankful tears, that brought relief. 

Afterwards she said, "Now, you must read my note. 
See ! how his poor hand trembled,” and she held it open 
for her to read : "Dear wife, cheer up. I shall soon earn 
enough to send for you and Harry. Your loving hus- 
band.” 

"I suppose,” said Ada, "that you know something 
about my husband, as you have been to his native town, 
but you cannot know what a kind, good husband and 
father he was. He loved us so much, and was getting 
along so well, when something or somebody tempted him 
to try to get rich quickly, and he was tempted to forge 


72 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


that note. The scheme failed. He knew he was found 
out, and he came home, told me all, and said he must 
leave the country. He told me to sell all the furniture, 
and go home to my father, that he would write to Mrs. 
Heartly, and she would send to me. He dared not write 
to any of his folks, for fear he would be traced. Then he 
kissed Harry and me, hugged us so close again and again, 
and he cried — only think, that great strong man cried, 
— and then he was gone, and I dropped as one dead. 

“Then I was sick a long time. Father came, and hired 
a, woman to take care of me, but he was in business diffi- 
culties and could not stay. Then he failed, gave up 
everything, moved into a few rooms, with only an old 
servant to take care of him, and procured a situation with 
a small salary. 

“When I grew a little better, I longed to go to him, but 
he could not leave to come for me for two weeks, and as 
I had not heard from my husband, the suspense nearly 
drove me wild. 

“I felt so alone and deserted that I told the doctor, the 
only one I knew very well, that I must go home to Father. 

“When I began to make preparations I found that the 
woman Father had hired (of course he had no way of 
knowing much about her) was a thief and had taken 
away with her all my nice clothes and all the money she 
could find. 

“I consulted the doctor. He was kind, but a beginner 


or Esther's opportunities. 


73 


and poor. His old mother kept house for him. They 
took Harry and me to their home for two days, while he 
sold some of my furniture, and found a place to store the 
rest. 

“By that means I raised enough to pay some debts that 
I knew were due, pay the doctor’s bill, which was re- 
markably small, get our tickets, and have what we 
thought plenty for emergencies. 

‘‘The doctor ordered a carriage, and was waiting to go 
to the depot and see us on the train, when he was sent for 
in haste, and he had to leave me to go alone. 

“When I arrived at the depot, a man who had fur- 
nished us with milk for some time came up to me as I 
alighted from the cab, and handed me a bill for milk. I 
told him I had given the woman who was with me the 
money every week to pay him and supposed she had done 
so. He said she had not paid him, and as I had no re- 
ceipts, and the train was nearly ready, I felt obliged to 
pay him, but it left me penniless after I had bought our 
tickets. 

“I had been so much excited about going home that I 
had eaten no breakfast, and was really not well enough 
to travel, so when you met me on the train I was faint, 
partly from weakness, partly from want of food, and 1 
had no money to buy. 

“But God sent the Good Samaritan, who won my grati- 
tude and love,” and she looked up lovingly into her 


74 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


friend’s face. Ada had hurried through this explanation 
as though she wished to get it over as soon as she could. 

After a short pause she said, “How soon ought I to go 
to Aimwell — this week ?” 

“Your mother would be very much pleased if you 
would, and, by the way, as you had your clothes stolen, 
and it would take time to make new ones, I wish you 
would please me by accepting something I have that I 
think would be about right for you. Just before I came 
here this summer, I had a travelling suit made, and it 
was made a little too small. As I like particularly to 
have my travelling suit easy, I wore my old one. I think 
as you are so slight and about my height, with a little 
altering, it would fit you. Of course there is a hat and 
wrap to match. I bought, on my way here, several pairs 
of gloves, my favorite color. I wonder if your number 
is the same as mine.” At the same time she unfolded the 
package of gloves. “You must take half, and these linen 
collars, a new pattern, do you think they are pretty? 
Then take half of them.” 

“You are so kind ! I shall be fully equipped for my 
visit, for that woman did not take my wrappers, after- 
noon dresses or underclothing. They were in the press 
in my room. My boots were, I suppose, too small for 
her.” 

As Miss Selby rose to go she handed a banknote to Ada, 
saying, “Your mother sent it to pay your travelling ex- 


or Esther's opportunities. 


75 


penses. Mrs. Heartly said if I would telegraph to her 
what train you would take, she would meet you, for the 
depot is three miles from Mr. Weston’s. You can decide 
what time you will start before I come day after to-mor- 
row.” 

A letter from Blueville was awaiting Esther when she 
returned home. 

We will give the first part of it: 

“Dear Friend, 

“I was very glad to hear from you, and was very much 
interested in your account of the boy and his mother. 
That was the order in which you became acquainted with 
them, I think. You know I have lived in this town but a 
short time, so I did not know the person you enquired 
about, but as soon as I had read your letter, I called on 
my next door neighbor and asked her. She had lived in 
town only five years, but said she knew who could tell me : 
‘Old Mrs. Green, for/ she added, ‘she knows all about 
every one who has lived here for the last fifty years and 
more.’ So, as I had met Mrs. Green at the sewing circle, 
I ventured to call on her that afternoon. Do you call 
that promptness ? 

“She was very glad to see me. She always is very glad 
to see every one. She likes to have some one to talk to, 
for she is a great gossip, but I will say this for her : she is 
a good-natured gossip, and as kind-hearted and helpful 
as one can well be. 


76 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“By the way, I foresee that this letter will be almost a 
volume. You remember, I used to report sermons and 
lectures from memory, when Mother was alive, for her 
benefit, as she was an invalid and could not hear for her- 
self, so at last I could repeat nearly the whole of a lec- 
ture or conversation. My memory does not fail me yet. 

“As I shall probably have plenty of time this evening, 
I propose to report to you the conversation that I had 
with Mrs. Green. I think it will amuse you. 

“As soon as I found a little space where I could say a 
word, I asked the question that I came to ask. 

“ ‘Sally Barstow ? She that married a Grant ? Law, 
Suz ! Yes, of course I remember her ! She left town 
twelve years ago. She used to keep company with J osiah 
Johnson. Folks thought they was engaged. He never 
let on that they was, but he was a different man after she 
married that city chap and went off to live. He hardly 
ever goes to see anyone, and of all still men, he is the 
stillest. He hardly ever speaks without he is spoken to 
first. You see, the folks thought it would be a good 
match, for he was likely and stiddy and she was smart 
and pretty, and his big farm joined her father’s small 
one. As I was saying, she was real smart. Why, her 
mother died when she was twelve, and she kept house for 
her father right along until she got married ! He hired 
a woman to come once in awhile, for two or three years, 
to wash and scrub, and after that she did everything. 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


77 


You see, they had a small farm, but it was pretty good, 
and some cows, pigs and chickings, and she tended them 
and took care of the kitchen garding, after it was 
planted, and made everything go as far as she could, and 
they got along first rate until that city chap come along/ 

“ ‘Where did she meet him ?’ I asked. 

“ ‘Well, you see, the way of it was this. He had been 
poorly and the doctor told him to spend the summer on a 
farm, and somebody told him that Blueville was a 
healthy place. So he came and put up at the tavern, and 
when he had got rested some he took a walk a little way 
into the outskirts of the town to try to find a farm that 
suited him. Well, it was a hot day, and he was weak, so, 
when he got as far as Jo Barstow’s, he was about ready to 
drop, and, as he saw the old man sitting in the porch, he 
asked if he might sit there in the shade and rest, and the 
old man said, “Sartainly, sartainly; guess you’ve bin 
sick, and the sun is too much for you.” Then he called, 
“Sally, bring out a tumbler of milk.” After he got 
cooled and rested a bit, the old man asked him a lot of 
questions, and he told all about himself, and how he 
wanted to get board on a farm. Then he up and asked 
Barstow if he would take him to board. You see, the 
doors were open, and he could see how nice and clean the 
house was. Then it was a real pleasant place, as pleasant 
and well siterwated a farm as there was anywhere round. 
And Barstow, he laughed and said, “I don’t know, I’m 


78 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


sure. Well, go in and ask Sally; I shouldn’t wonder if 
she’d say yes, for, you see, she’s so smart she complains 
that she don’t have half enough to do.” Well, they went 
in, and supper was just ready, and they asked him to set 
up, and they had a first rate supper, light bread, apple 
sarse and I don’t know what not. And he wanted to 
come there to board all the more. So the long and short 
of it was, Barstow tackled up his horse and wagon after 
tea and took him over to the tavern, got his things, and 
brought ’em back afore dark. And then he had to go and 
fall in love with Sally. And she, all along of taking care 
of him all summer (and he was a sight of trouble, some- 
times he would have real sick spells) got attached to him. 
That’s the way with wimin, the more trouble anyone 
makes ’em, the more they love ’em. The way I knew 
about all this was when that chap got pretty well, in the 
fall, they got married and went to the city to live, and 
her father had to hire housekeepers — a good many one 
time and another. They didn’t seem to stay long, and 
between the times of one going and another coming, one 
or other of the neighbors used to go in and help the old 
man along. I used often to be the one. Well, it broke 
him up awful, having Sally go. She was such good com- 
pany, always singing around the house, and he got kind 
of childish, and when I was there he would tell me over 
and over how he “lost his darter,” as he called it. After 
awhile he got so he could not work, and some of his 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


79 


housekeepers did well, and some didn’t. Some of ’em 
was saving, and some wasn’t, and he had to mortgage 
his farm, and, when he died, it was sold at auction, to 
pay his debts and to bury him. But there ! I’ve been run- 
ning on and haven’t asked what I long to know — if you 
know anything about Sally Grant?’ 

“I told her that a friend of mine, in a letter to me, had 
written that she had met Mrs. Grant, who had said she 
wanted to go back to Blueville. She thought she could 
get work to do there, and perhaps her boy could get a 
place on a farm. 

“ I did not give her any further information, as I 
thought Sally would not wish to be considered an object 
of charity in her native town, if she could help it. I 
asked Mrs. Green, however, if she knew of some rooms 
that Mrs. Grant could hire. I thought it best to ask the 
question while I found the space. ‘Oh, yes ! if she is as 
smart and capable as she used to be, she can get plenty of 
work, but I don’t know about the boy. We don’t pay a 
premium for city boys here !’ and she smiled to herself 
as tho’ she had had some experience in that line. Then 
she said, slowly, ‘rooms to let ?’ and seemed to be in deep 
thought, but not for long. She started up soon, and ex- 
claimed, ‘I do declare ! if that isn’t a Providence.’ Then, 
turning to me, she said, ‘I told you that Sally’s father’s 
farm was sold at auction. Mr. Drayton, a New York 
merchant, had an uncle who was too old to work, and, as 


80 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


he and his wife were brought up on farms, they thought 
they would like to spend their last days in the country. 
So Mr. Drayton was looking out for a small farm. Well, 
he heard of this one to be sold at auction, and he bought 
it, furniture and all, just as it stood. Then he fixed up 
the large square chamber with new furniture (and I tell 
you it looked nice), because he calculated to come and 
see his uncle and aunt once in awhile, and they had other 
nephews and nieces to come sometimes. Then, the old 
folks had good furniture, and they put that in the par- 
lor and what used to be the winter kitchen and the big 
bedroom, all on one floor, handy like. That left the 
settin’ room, the summer kitchen and the two rooms up- 
stairs, and they put all the old furniture in them rooms. 
Well, when I called to see the old folks just after they 
moved here, the New York nephew happened to be there, 
and he asked me if I knew of a widow or a couple with- 
out small children that would like to hire the east side of 
the house. He would let it cheap, if they would kinder 
look after the old folks. He didn’t feel just easy to have 
them live there alone. They might be taken sick. It 
beats all how ’fraid folks are to have children in the 
houses to let. I wonder if they have forgotten that they 
were children once themselves.’ I suggested that per- 
haps they had not forgotten, that was the reason they 
did not want to let them in. They knew just how much 
mischief some children could do. ‘There is some truth 


or Esther's opportunities. 


81 


in that/ she said, and she laughed, good-naturedly. ‘But, 
anyway, I told him I didn’t know of any such convenient 
folks, and he asked me would I, if I heard of the right 
kind, send him word, and he gave me a card, with his 
name, town, street and number, all on it, real purty. 
Now, wouldn’t that be a good place for Sally ?’ 

“I told her I should think it would and I would write 
to my friend about it. Thanking her, I rose to leave, but 
she followed me to the door, saying, ‘You needn’t thank 
me, ’twas no trouble at all. I would be real glad to have 
Sally come back. I am real glad to hear from her. We 
haven’t heard for a long time. She used to write to 
Sarah Long, but the last time she writ was just after her 
husband died, and the next time Sarah went to the city 
she went where Sally used to live, but she had moved and 
she could not find out where she had gone.’ 

“Then she added, ‘I don’t believe but I had better go 
out to the old farm and see if they have found anyone 
yet to live there.’ I told her I feared it would be too 
much trouble for her, but she said, ‘Sho, now ! I should 
just love to go.’ 

“She came in the evening to tell me the result of her 
self-imposed task. She said, ‘I went to the farm. The 
old folks thought it would he a good thing to have them 
there, and the old lady said, “Poor child, it will be a very 
little like coming home again,” and they promised they 
would not let it to anyone else before they heard from 


82 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


you. As I was coming ’long home past ’Siah Johnson’s 
place, I walked kind of slow, for I like to look over the 
fence, everything looks so nice and he has lots and lots 
of flowers. There was one big bed of lady-delights, and 
another of perpetual pinks, and round a cherry tree such 
lots of velvety marygolds, all brown and gold, that I had 
to stop to look at them. Just then I heard a noise in a 
tree near the fence, and I looked, and there was ’Siah, 
picking some early fruit. So I said, “How do you do, 
Mr. Johnson?” and he stepped down on the ladder and 
came out to the fence an’ said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. 
Green.” I’ll say one thing for him, he’s polite to anyone 
who comes to see him. Well, I said to him, “I should 
think you was most too heavy to go up in those trees. I 
should most think you’d have a smart boy to do such 
chores for you.” “I have been thinking lately,” he said, 
“that I would get a boy, but I don’t know of one round 
here. He’d have to have a home somewhere near to stay 
nights, for a boy needs a woman to see to him, you know.” 
Then I said, kind of trembling, “You might take Sally 
Barstow’s boy. She and her boy is coming to live in the 
east side of the old farm house, perhaps.” Well, he 
flushed up red, then he turned pale, then he said, “I will 
take the boy, but I don’t want to hear anything about 
the woman.” And for once he forgot to be polite and 
went off across lots without saying good-bye/ 

“So you see Mrs. Green has arranged it all without 


or Esther's opportunities. 


83 


much assistance from the parties concerned. She also 
brought the address of the New York merchant, which I 
enclose to you.” 


84 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER XI. 

Before Esther slept she wrote to the address given, 
gave a short account of Mrs. Grant and asked for terms. 
This promptness proves, at least in her case, the super- 
iority of private benevolence over public charities; of a 
warm, loving, sympathizing human heart over the slow 
working machinery of charitable societies. 

Just as she finished her letter, but before she had folded 
it, there was a gentle rap on her door and her niece’s voice 
asked, “May I come in ?” 

As Annie sat down by her aunt’s side, she said, “I came 
to have a good long chat with you, but I fear you are too 
busy.” 

On being assured by Esther that she had finished work 
for that night, Annie exclaimed, “Then you must have 
been writing a business letter, for it is so short ! Do you 
even have to write business letters at night ? Don’t you 
ever have any time for yourself ?” 

“Why should I ?” was the answer, “I do not belong to 
myself. T was bought with a price.’ But in another 


or Esther's opportunities. 


85 


sense I do have the time for myself. I now have on hand 
two things to do. They are a great pleasure and interest 
to me. One of them I do not feel at liberty to talk about, 
but the other I will tell you.” 

She then gave an account of Sally Grant and her boy, 
read the letter she had received from Blueville, also the 
one she had just written. 

Annie was much interested, and at the close exclaimed, 
"What an idler I am ! but indeed, Auntie, I am dissatis- 
fied with myself, and I wish you would teach me how to 
work! I feel ashamed when I remember how many 
hours I have wasted, especially at those card parties, and 
I don’t even enjoy them. They are inexpressibly dull to 
me, and I can’t sleep after one of them. The cards seem 
to be passing backward and forward before my eyes with 
a disagreeable monotony. I think sometimes I will 
never go to another, for besides, oh ! Auntie, I am afraid 
that,” and she clung convulsively to her aunt and burst 
into tears, "I am afraid Arthur drinks too much at 
them.” 

Esther petted and soothed her, and, although her own 
eyes were full of tears, said, cheerfully, "We must try 
with God’s help to cure him.” 

Soon Annie, with a young girl’s lightheartedness, was 
talking about the Grants and saying eagerly, "May I buy 
some clothes for Josie ? I have such a quantity of pocket 
money saved up ! You give me so many pretty things, 
there is not much that I can do with my allowance.” 


86 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


Of course it is needless to say that her aunt was glad to 
enlist this bright young spirit in the army of workers for 
His poor. 

Sally Grant sat in her poor room, the scanty furniture 
of which was cheap and coarse. She was mending one 
of Josie's garments — an occupation which was not likely 
to fail her as long as that active young man lived. She 
looked, if possible, more thin and faded than she did the 
first time we saw her. In addition, she acted as though 
she was nearly discouraged. 

As she sat sewing slowly, not with her usual brisk 
movement, she heard a knock at the outer door. 

She did not rise to answer it, and did not even raise 
her eyes until the visitor, finding both doors open, en- 
tered her room and stood before her. Then she started 
in confusion, and hastily brought a chair, for her caller 
was Miss Selby, who saw, at the first glance, that Mrs. 
Grant had some additional trouble. 

She had talked with her but a few minutes before she 
knew what it was. She had been making boys' clothing 
for a firm in town. It was her only means of subsistence. 
And that morning, when she called for more work, she 
had been told that no more would be given out. They 
were overstocked and would wait to sell what they had on 
hand. 

Esther pitied her so much that she hastened to ask her 


or Esther's opportunities. 


87 


about going to Blueville, told her that she had written 
to a friend in that town, who had ascertained that part 
of the house once owned by her father was to let, that 
she had written to the owner, and had just received his 
answer, which she read. It was as follows : 

“Miss Esther Selby, 

“Dear Madam: Received yours of the 20th. Should 
think the person you describe would be a suitable 
tenant. My terms are: Rent free on certain con- 
ditions. First, that she shall see at least twice 
a day if the old folks are comfortable, and if 
they need help, procure it for them. Second, that 
she shall sign an agreement, that, if at any time my uncle 
and aunt should want her to leave, she will do so at one 
week’s notice. I will add that my aunt does not want to 
keep a servant, but has promised me that she will hire 
all her hard work done. If Mrs. Grant is able to do it, 
of course she will receive the usual pay for such work. 
With thanks for your letter, I am, 

“Yours respectfully .” 

Her hearer listened breathlessly, then said, “If I only 
could ! but I have no money to pay for moving there.” 

“That is what I came to see about,” said Miss Selby. 
“There is plenty of furniture already at the house for you 
to use. You can sell what you have here, so you will not 
have much to move. Then, if you will let me buy your 
tickets to Blueville and a travelling suit for yourself (my 


88 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


niece would like to give Josie a suit of clothes), I think 
you could go, couldn’t you ?” 

For answer her hearer burst into tears. 

Just then, with a whoop and a hurrah, Josie bounded 
into the house, shouting, “Mother Grant, Fve earned a 
quarter !” 

Seeing the visitor, he paused on the threshold, took off 
his cap and bowed low. 

Then, seeing that his mother was crying, he turned 
fiercely toward Miss Selby and said, “Now, I like you 
first rate, but if you have made my mother cry” — 

Before he could say more his mother ran to him, say- 
ing, “ J osie ! J osie ! what are you saying to Miss Selby, 
when she has been taking so much trouble for us ! and, 
Josie, only think ! we can go to dear old Blueville to live, 
only think of that !” 

“Well,” he said, “I thought you wanted to go. Then 
what are you crying for ?” 

“Oh, I do want to go, but I am so glad I can’t help 
crying !” 

“Well, if that don’t beat all. I feel more like laugh- 
ing.” 

In a few days their few arrangements were completed 
and they were settled in the old farm house, receiving a 
hearty welcome from their neighbors. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


89 


CHAPTER XII. 

A little out of town is a brown house, — not a large 
house, not a stylish house, but one neat and comfortable. 

A pretty, refined little woman was standing in the 
front hall of this house, preparing two little girls for 
school. Two braided gowns just alike, two small taste- 
ful hats just alike, on two little girls that a stranger 
would say looked just alike, and kissing two rosebud 
mouths, she followed them to the door, saying, “Good- 
bye, Twinnies, be good girls." 

Then, opening the dining room door softly, she took 
a look at the sturdy boy of two years, who was being 
charmingly mothered by a girl of five. 

Satisfied that they are busy and happy, she closed the 
door and proceeded to the kitchen, where the dinner 
dishes waited to be washed. She sighed slightly as she 
looked at the numerous piles, then proceeded cheerfully 
and in a systematic way known to good housekeepers, 
until it almost seemed that the dishes had placed them- 
selves in those shining rows like well-drilled soldiers, so 
quickly was it done. 


90 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


Soon all was in order, and running upstairs, she re- 
turned in an incredibly short time, dressed in a becoming 
afternoon gown. 

She then entered the room where her children were 
playing, and stopping a moment to place more firmly 
the tottering walls of a block house which they were 
building, she entered a small sewing room, the door of 
which stood open. With an unmistakable sigh, she stood 
contemplating a large white pile of little garments, cut, 
ready to sew, glanced regretfully at her sewing machine, 
then, with an expression on her face of cheerful deter- 
mination, took a garment and seated herself to sew. 

She had not worked long when there was a ring at the 
door. 

Rather reluctantly she rose to answer it — she did not 
keep a servant — but when she opened the door she said, 
joyfully, “Queenie ! dear Queenie !” and her face beamed 
with delight. As she showed her into the dining room, 
which, by a few skillful touches and a handsome table- 
cover, had been converted into a pretty sitting room, she 
said, wistfully, “You will let me take your wraps, and 
stay a good long time, will you not ?” 

Esther smilingly consented, and they sat hand in hand 
for some time, talking of the past and the present, of old 
friends and new and of the other home beyond the river, 
where some of their friends had lately gone. 

At last, Esther, glancing into the sewing room, said. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


91 


“I see you have quantities of sewing, don't let me hinder 
you, rather bring me a piece to do. I generally have 
thimble and needles with me, and you know we could 
always talk just as fast when we sewed.” 

Then, as Daisy, as she called her, took up the work she 
had laid down to admit her friend, Esther said, “I see 
that you are stitching that seam, don't you use your 
machine ?" 

“The doctor has forbidden me to use it,'' was the 
answer. 

“And you have such quantities of those little garments 
to make ! Do you like to make them as well as you used 
to like fancy work ?” 

“No; I do not!'' was the emphatic answer. “I shall 
have to confess. You know I always did tell you every- 
thing. Now, this is how the case stands. I do like pretty 
well to do plain sewing, but when I was down town the 
other day I saw a piece of cloth marked down because 
plain goods are not as stylish this season as they were 
last.” 

She brought from the sewing room a roll of soft grey 
cloth, saying, “Isn't it fine ? and such a lovely shade. I 
found, if I would take all there was left in the piece, I 
could get it very cheap. Do you remember my blue 
wrapper ?” 

“Yes, indeed, I remember that you looked like a violet 
in it, instead of a daisy.” 


92 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


"Well, I wore that a long time, and when I could wear 
it no longer I ripped and washed it, and the pieces are 
just as handsome as new. When I was looking at this 
cloth visions of two soft grey dresses trimmed with plait- 
ings of the blue for the twins, and perhaps one for Bessie, 
— her eyes and hair are dark, — with plaitings of dark, 
rich red, floated before my eyes and I bought it. Now 
these little underclothes must be done first, and by that 
time the children will need the dresses and I fear I shall 
have to make them up plain, as I, unfortunately, bought 
so much. They will look when dressed in them like 
‘Three grey friars all in a row’,” and she laughed merrily. 

"But the greatest trouble is that I long to make the 
dresses of my vision, so that great pile of white work 
makes me feel as though I was obliged to climb a steep 
mountain with a heavy pack on my shoulders, when 
there is a garden of flowers at the base that I long to 
cultivate/’ 

"You are the same beauty-loving Daisy yet, I see,” said 
her friend with a loving caress, "and I think it is a 
providence that you have ‘confessed’ to me to-day, for I 
have scarcely any sewing to do. I have a machine, and 
you know how I dislike to be idle. You must, because of 
your love for me, let me send for the ‘pack’ and rest your 
tired feet among the flowers — in other words, make and 
trim the pretty dresses. Now, if there is one thing that I 
flatter myself I can do well, it is knife plaiting, and, did 


or Esther's opportunities. 


93 


you know that I once had a red dress ? Several years ago 
I thought it too juvenile for me, but the color was so 
pretty, I thought it would do for trimmings, so it was 
ripped, pressed and put safely away. When I was look- 
ing for something the other day I saw it and wondered 
what I should use it for. Now may I send it to you and 
will you cut off strips the width you want for Bessie's 
dress, also of the blue for the twins’ and let me plait 
them ? There will be enough of the red to make a whole 
dress for Freddie besides.” 

Daisy dropped her work and threw her arms im- 
pulsively around her friend, saying, “That is just like 
my dear old Queenie. You never thought you had any- 
thing to do for yourself, if there was anyone else that 
you could help. But I ought not to let you do plain 
sewing for me !” 

“Why not! I should like to know?” said her friend. 
“Who used to do quantities of fancy work for me be- 
sides patiently showing me how to make what I under- 
took to do myself ? Don’t cheat me out of the pleasure 
of making some return.” 

“Perhaps I will consider your proposition on the one 
condition, that you will stay to tea. You have not seen 
my husband for several years. You have happened to 
call when he was at work.” 

When Daisy commenced to alter the pretty center 
table into a tea table by removing the bright cover, 


94 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


Esther said, “Aren’t yon going to let me set the table, as 
yon nsed to when we played tea party in the attic years 
ago ?” 

“Oh ! no ! for it is the twinnies’ business to set the table 
and Bessie has been whispering that she wants to show 
yon her own garden. She planted and has taken all the 
care of it.” 

“Will Freddie go to see the garden with Mama’s 
friend,” said Esther, holding out her hand to the boy. 

He looked up earnestly in her face, then put his hand 
trustingly in hers. 

As she stood by the tiny garden which was near the 
kitchen window she heard much against her will (for the 
small boy held fast to her hand and was determined to 
see all the flowers, and Bessie had a long account of how 
she got one plant, and how long it took some of the seeds 
to come up and so on) the first part of a conversation be- 
tween Daisy and her husband. 

“Well, little wife, has that snow mountain melted 
yet?” 

“Ho” (laughing), “but I have had the offer of a warm 
sun to shine on it.” 

“Well, it is too late for that sun, for I have engaged a 
broad if not brilliant one to come day after to-morrow 
and melt it all down. I mean Mrs. Flanders.” 

“Oh, Melvin, you can’t spare the money, can you ?” 

“Yes indeed, for I have engaged a piece of work that 


or Esther’s opportunities. 


95 


I can do evenings, and it will take me all the evenings 
next week except Thursday. You know I would not bar- 
gain away the evening I ought to spend in His house. I 
can always spare money to make your paths easy aud 
pleasant, but you won’t always let me. You are such a 
dear little economical wife, my dear — ” 

At this point Esther in desperation caught up Freddie 
and went into the house. 

At the tea table she met — for the first time for several 
years — Mr. Grey, her friend’s husband, and was surprised 
at the marked improvement in him. 

She used to think he was an intelligent, manly fellow, 
hut now — well ! not many mechanics can retire and after 
a bath and change of clothes emerge a perfect, unmistak- 
able gentleman as he did — although there are, to be sure, 
many who have the gentleness, tact and intelligence of 
which many educated and always well-dressed men are 
destitute. 

After a while she looked up archly at Mr. Grey and 
said, “I was in the garden when you returned and could 
not help hearing the first part of what you said to Daisy. 
I admit that you have the best right to the privilege of 
making her paths pleasant, tho’ she used to say I was her 
best friend.” Then, turning to Daisy, she said, “You 
will let me do the plaiting, will you ?” 

Her friend laughed and said, “How anxious you are 
to get work to do !” Then to her husband, “I am rather 


96 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


sorry that you engaged to do that work, for you know we 
were to read ‘Ben Hur’ next week and discuss it after- 
wards.” Then to Esther, “It is such fun, for he some- 
times makes me take the side in the discussion that 
neither of us think is right, and then, before I know, I 
am arguing on his side, — for how can any one succeed in 
proving a thing to be right when she feels that it is 
wrong !” 

When Miss Selby returned home she said to her broth- 
er’s wife, “Do you visit Daisy Grey ?” 

“Well, no; I don’t visit. We exchange calls about 
twice a year, but I thought it would be hardly kind to 
visit her, she lives in such a different style from the 
one she was brought up in. And then she keeps no serv- 
ants and can have no time for visits. I always thought it 
so strange that a girl with her education and position in 
society should marry a mechanic.” 

“I have been there this afternoon and saw Mr. Grey. 
He is a gentleman. She has polished and refined him. 
They have been educating each other the past nine years, 
and she stands on a much higher plane morally and intel- 
lectually because of her marrying such a noble Christian 
man.” 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


97 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Esther was in the habit of walking every pleasant day, 
both for health and pleasure. 

She found many alterations and improvements in the 
town. Among other things there had been, within two 
or three years, quite a village of cottages the other side 
of a bridge over the railroad, in the north part of the 
town and almost among the fields. 

One day she started with the intention of walking in 
that direction, as she thought she would like to see the 
small gardens that belonged to them. 

As she approached the bridge she saw that it was being 
repaired. A part of the planks had been taken up, but a 
broad one was laid across for the convenience of the work- 
men, who crossed and recrossed several times as she stood 
thinking what a height it was from the track below, and 
how fatal a misstep of one of those men might be. 

When she looked up she saw on the other side, a short 
distance from the bridge, a pretty child led by a girl of 
ten or eleven years. 


98 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


As they neared the bridge the baby (for she was not 
much more than a baby) snatched away her hand and ran 
laughing towards the bridge. 

The young girl called in a frightened voice and ran 
after her. 

Instead of crossing on the safe footway the child, with 
baby recklessness, ran straight on to the plank, but when 
she was about half over appeared to be frightened and 
was about to turn. 

Quick as thought Esther stooped and holding out her 
arms said with a smile, “Come, darling.” 

Oh, the power of loving words and smiles ! The baby 
ran straight into those waiting arms. 

Then Esther clasped it tightly and burst into tears. 

“What for pitty lady cy ?” said the child, stroking its 
deliverer’s cheek. 

“Because God was so good as to let me save you,” was 
her answer. 

“Dod dood, Dod dood, baby dood, too.” Then as the 
girl came up, “Baby dood now ; oont wun ’way more.” 

As the girl tearfully thanked the lady and led the child 
away (it was evident she would not let her escape again) 
baby looked back, threw a kiss from her tiny fingers and 
said, “Dod dood, baby dood, too, pitty lady.” 

Miss Selby trembled too much to continue her walk, 
but the next day thoughts of the pretty little one haunted 
her, so in the afternoon she started in the same direction, 


or Esther’s opportunities. 


99 


thinking that possibly she might get a glimpse of her, 
as she did not probably live far from the bridge, and so 
young a child would not be allowed to walk far. 

After she crossed the bridge, Esther walked slowly past 
several of the houses, admiring the pretty gardens, neat 
houses and walks, and thinking to herself, “The people 
keep these places nice because they own them (she had 
been told that they were owned by mechanics mostly and 
occupied by the owners), and they take pride in keeping 
them nice.” 

As she approached one of the prettiest she heard a baby 
voice exclaiming, “Pitty lady ! Pitty lady !” and she saw 
the little one standing tip-toe to look over the low fence, 
and calling, “Mama, Mama ! Dod dood ! pitty lady.” 

A woman who was bending over a flower bed came 
quickly forward and said, “Is it possible that you are the 
one who saved my darling from a dreadful death? I 
have so wanted to see and thank you, but thanks are too 
poor to express my gratitude. Do come in out of the sun 
a few moments, for I want to tell you something.” 

When they were seated on a rustic bench the mother, 
with her child on her knee, said, “When Lizzie brought 
baby home yesterday and told me about her great danger 
she described the lady who saved her so well that I think 
I should have known you if Bell had not. But what I 
wanted to say was that baby kept saying after she came 
home, Titty lady, Dod dood/ I know you must have 
! Lore. 


100 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


said to her that God was good, but Lizzie did not hear 
you.” 

“That was before the young girl reached us,” Esther 
said. 

She then told the mother why she had said it, and that 
the child had repeated it several times before she left her. 

“Well !” said the mother, “every time Bell said it I felt 
rebuked, for, although my heart was softened and I felt 
very grateful to God and the one He sent to save my 
child, yet I knew I had neglected His service for some 
time and it was a stranger who had first taught my little 
one to say ‘God is good . 5 My mother was a Christian ; I 
am a church member ; my husband is not a professing 
Christian, but he is kind and good. We have been so 
taken up with building this house and making every- 
thing pretty in and around it, that we have neglected to 
‘Acknowledge Him in all our ways 5 ; but I hope we shall 
not for the future. Will you pray for us? I feel that 
you must be a Christian, because you acknowledged 
Him.” 

As Miss Selby kissed the little one and arose to go, Mrs. 
Lee — she had so introduced herself — said earnestly, “I 
should be so glad if you would call and see me when you 
walk this way . 55 

Esther willingly promised that she would, and with 
kind words and a hearty hand-clasp they parted at the 



* THEY WERE SOON 


READING TOGETHER A 


LETTER. 

(p. 101) 





or Esther’s opportunities. 


101 


gate — strangers yesterday, friends to-day, each happier 
for having met. 


Annie Selby sat one morning in her aunt’s pleasant 
morning room having what she called “a nice long talk” 
with that lady, when she said: “Sallie Grant and Josie 
have been settled in her old home three weeks and you 
have not heard from them, have you, Auntie ? I wish we 
could hear how they are getting along, don’t you ?” 

“Yes,” said her aunt, musingly, “it would be pleasant 
to hear from them,” but she was thinking of one and an- 
other that she had helped as she had opportunity and had 
felt interested in, but probably would not hear from 
again on this side the river ; but she still smiled, for she 
knew in whose hand those interests were and that on the 
other side she would know. 

Annie was thinking the happy thoughts of a young 
maiden and forgot to talk until she was aroused by a serv- 
ant bringing up her aunt’s mail. 

Her quick eye saw the postmark on the first letter and 
she exclaimed, “Oh ! a letter from Blueville ! It is not 
every one who has her wishes granted so quickly !” 

They were soon reading together a letter from Josie 
Grant. 

“Dear Miss Selby, 

“'Mother says she thinks you would be pleased to have 
me write a letter to you. I thank you very much for help- 


102 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


ing us to come here. I like it first rate. I do not go to 
Sunday School yet, but Grandpa Jennings is as good as 
two Sunday Schools. Oh ! I forgot to tell you : Mr. J en- 
nings is my grandpa now. I’ve adopted him. You see, 
he tells me lots out of the Bible and stories. He reads to 
me and I read to him some, and he shows me how to write. 
I had almost forgot. So one day we were having a real 
good time and I said, ‘I wish you were my grandpa/ 
and he laughed and said, ‘Do you ? Then you may call 
me so. Fll adopt you.’ So with a grandpa to tell me 
stories, and show me how to do things, and a grandma — 
that's Mrs. Jennings — to give me lots of cookies, of course 
I have a good time. 

“I work for Mr. Johnson. He's kind, but he doesn't say 
much to me. I don’t say those words you do not want me 
to say very much now, but the other day I was trying to 
lead a calf into the barn and he wouldn’t move a foot. At 
last I got mad and I guess I got off a pretty long string 
of them. I did not know Mr. Johnson was anywhere 
round, but he was, and called, ‘Boy!’ I turned round 
and he looked scared and said, ‘Boy, I pity your mother.’ 
I felt scared myself, for he looked as though he thought 
it was awful for me to say them, and I guess I shan’t say 
them again without I forget, and I hope I shan’t. 

“Tell that pretty young lady I thank her again for 
those clothes. I tell you, I felt big when I got in the cars 
with that suit on, almost a man. Tell her that, when I 


or Esther's opportunities. 


103 


am a man, I shall feel awfully sorry if she wont let me 
give her a present that will cost twice as much as they 
did — interest, you know. Grandpa is teaching me inter- 
est evenings. 

“Mother says tell Miss Selby I thank her and love her 
very much. I say the same. 

“With much respect, 

“Joseph M. Grant.” 

Annie talked about the letter with eager interest 
awhile, for, since she bought the suit for Josie, she had 
kept on caring for others, and time did not hang heavily 
now, she had so many interests. 

When she had exhausted the subject she borrowed the 
letter to read to her mother, for she had succeeded in 
arousing that lady into feeling considerable interest in 
Josie and his mother. 


104 


OUGHT WE TO OARE 


CHAPTER XIV. 

After Annie left, her aunt took up one of her other 
letters and found it was from Mrs. Heartly, reminding 
her of her promise to make her a visit, and asking if she 
would come soon, adding, "I have just received another 
letter from Liverpool and would like to have you read it.” 

With her usual promptitude, Esther decided to go the 
first pleasant day, as she needed no other preparation 
than to pack a travelling bag. Happy the woman who has 
such a well-stocked wardrobe that she need not wait to 
make something to wear before she can start on a short 
journey ! 

There had been recent rains, and when she arrived 
Heartly farm was looking its best, as if on purpose to 
welcome her, and as she received the warm hand-clasp of 
her motherly friend, her cheeks flushed and her eyes 
brightened with pleasure and she felt that this was al- 
most a second home to her. 

The air was so clear and sweet and the birds sang so 
merrily that she said to Mrs. Heartly, "It must be that I 


or Esther's opportunities. 


105 


am a child again. I don't feel more than twelve or thir- 
teen at most. I feel that I must take a run down to the 
brook. If May were here I should challenge her to race." 

“Eun as much as you please, there is no one around to 
make remarks. If you will go by way of the orchard I 
will go so far with you, but I won’t promise to race with 
you," she added, laughing. 

As they passed under the trees, talking gayly, Esther 
stopped suddenly and exclaimed, “Time has stood still, 
for there is my swing in the same old tree !" 

“That is why I wanted to come here with you, to see if 
you would be surprised. John has been at home, and 
when I told him you had been here and were coming 
again, he said he would put up your old swing, and told 
me to see if you recognized it." 

“Oh, yes, I knew it as soon as I saw it, — at least I 
thought I did, and when I came close I was sure, for 
there are my initials on the back. But how did it happen 
to be kept so long ? I supposed it was used up long ago." 

“It did not happen. When you went away J ohn took 
it down and hid it somewhere. The next year we had 
some young folks here and I asked him to get it and put 
it up. He said ‘No, not that one. I will make another.’ 
And he did. I think he did not like to have others use 
your swing." 

“Tell him, when you write, that I thank him for tak- 
ing such good care of it. It reminds me so much of those 


106 


OUGHT WE TO CAKE 


happy days, for I think I spent more time in that swing 
than I did in any other one place, in pleasant weather.” 

When she had taken her run and stood by the clear 
brook and watched the tiny silver trout dart in and out 
of the shady pools, she walked soberly back, thinking 
with loving thankfulness : “How beautiful is God’s 
earth !” 

A lunch of fruit and milk awaited her, and after she 
had finished, Mrs. Heartly handed her the letter from 
Liverpool. 

It was signed “Tim,” and began: 

“Dear Friend, 

“I think you will allow me to call you friend, for tho’ 
I have sinned so deeply, yet your answer to the doctor’s 
letter assured me that you still feel kindly toward me. I 
expect to commence work for the merchant the doctor 
wrote about. He has been very kind and offered me the 
position of under bookkeeper in his store. I told him I 
was obliged to leave America, and why, and that I feared 
he would not dare to tamst me. He answered that he 
would give me a chance to retrieve myself, but that, of 
course, he could not give me a position of trust. The 
salary will be very small in comparison with the one 1 
had at home. I tried to write cheerfully to my wife, but 
when I think of the long, weary waiting before we can 
meet again, I am almost discouraged, for though I shall 
live on just as little as I possibly can, it will take a long 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


107 


time to save enough for her passage and the boy’s out 
here. But I will take courage, for God has been so good 
to raise up friends for me in my sin and sorest need. 

“The first part of my voyage I felt only a dull despair. 
I felt alone, with not a friend on earth or in Heaven. 
When the fever seized me I thought I was a boy again. My 
father had forbidden me to pick fruit from a certain tree. 
I disobeyed him, and in the act I fell and broke a leg. A 
passing neighbor carried me into the house and laid me 
on a bed. My father stood over me and sternly said, 
‘The way of the transgressor is hard.’ And on shipboard, 
with my brain on fire, I kept living over and over that 
time, feeling the dreadful pain in my leg, seeing my 
father’s stern face and hearing his condemning words. 

“But it seems that a Good Samaritan took care of me, 
and, as he said softly, ‘As one whom his mother comfort- 
eth,’ I saw my mother, received her loving care, felt her 
kisses, and was content. 

“When the fever left me I was too weak to do anything 
for a long time, but think. I hope I thought to some 
purpose. I used to blame my father for his harshness, 
but as I thought it all over I concluded that he thought 
it was the only way to deal with my willfulness. Then I 
thought, ‘If my father saw so much in me to condemn, 
what must my Heavenly Father think of me.’ I felt 
there was no hope for me but in the atoning blood of 
Christ, and I gave up my will, my heart, my life to Him. 


108 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“Please tell that kind Miss Selby that I am very grate- 
ful to her for her kindness to my wife and little boy, and 
that I will try to repay her in the way that I feel she 
would like best, by being to the best of my ability, with 
God’s help, what I know she must be, an earnest Chris- 
tian worker.” 

When she had read the letter, Esther sat thinking a 
short time, then said to Mrs. Heartly, “Whose name did 
Timothy forge ?” 

“I have it written down,” was the answer, and going to 
the old-fashioned desk in the corner she took out a card 
with the name of Peter Mason on it. 

“His wife is a dear friend of mine,” Esther exclaimed. 
“I have promised to spend two or three days with her 
next week.” Then musingly, “Perhaps this will prove a 
kind providence for the repentant one over the ocean.” 

Mrs. Heartly told her that Ada Weston seemed 
stronger and had a little color in her cheeks. Her 
mother-in-law’s love and care seemed to comfort her, 
and they were evidently a great help to each other while 
Willie was always with his grandfather, who took as ten- 
der care of him as a mother could. Then, stopping sud- 
denly, she exclaimed, “Why ! I have not told you yet my 
great piece of news. Jane Morse is going to be married 
next week. You know I told you that the neighbors 
prophesied that he would persuade her before long.” 

The next day Jane came over to see her friend. She 


or Esther's opportunities. 


109 


declared she was perfectly delighted for — (here she 
blushed and hesitated, then laughed and went on) — for 
“you can come to my wedding. You will come? Say 
yes, now, to please me.” 

Esther said, “I should like to, perhaps I will. But I 
thought you could not leave your mother ?” 

“Well, I am not going to leave her. Just think ! The 
very next day after you called to see me, he said he sup- 
posed that mother was so old it would kind of break her 
up to leave the old house, and he proposed to let his own 
house — he knew of a man who would hire it — and com- 
mence housekeeping in mother’s house. He finally made 
me fix the day, and I suppose it will be next Tuesday — 
that is, if I get my wedding dress done. J ust think ! I 
went to the city, bought the silk, staid all day, had it 
cut and basted by a first-class dressmaker. She gave 
directions about putting it together, and I have done all 
I can on it, for I can’t tell for the life of me how the over- 
skirt goes. You see, I could go to the city and get her to 
fix it, but I haven’t time, for my aunt is coming to-mor- 
row and it will take both of us all day to-morrow and 
Monday to cook.” 

“Why do you have to do so much cooking ? Is the wed- 
ding cake yet to be made ?” 

“Oh, no ! that was made weeks ago. We shall have to 
make pies and cakes of all kinds, roast turkeys, beef and 
pork, make puddings, and I think I shall boil a tongue, a 


110 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


ham and a large piece of corned beef. It will all help fill 
up Dunham, you know.” 

“Who is Dunham ?” 

“Oh, I expect there will be plenty of Dunhams, but,” 
as Esther looked rather mystified, “I don’t believe you 
ever heard that story. I must tell it. A woman whose 
daughter was to be married on a certain day was telling 
a neighbor what she was going to cook for the wedding 
supper. The last item she mentioned was a large pot of 
baked beans. When she was asked what she was going 
to have them for, she said, ‘Oh ! it will help fill up Dun- 
ham’ — Dunham was the name of her future son-in-law, 
and he was a very large eater. 

“Now, I expect there will be several large eaters, for 
my uncles and cousins are farmers. Most of them will 
come on Monday, and I don’t know how long they will 
stay. But what shall I do about the dress ?” 

“Perhaps I can help you,” said Esther. 

“I haven’t a doubt that you can. I remember how 
nicely you used to make dolls’ dresses, and, of course, you 
know all the styles.” 

“No, not quite all of the styles, but perhaps I may have 
seen the one you need to know about. I will return with 
you if you wish.” 

Accordingly she accompanied her friend when she re- 
turned, and when she had seen the dress, decided that the 
overskirt was put together right, and all that it needed 
was draping. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


Ill 


“But,” said J ane, “that is the puzzle.” 

“Put it on,” was the answer, “and I will see what I 
can do.” 

Fifteen minutes and it was done. 

As J ane surveyed herself in the glass with pleased sur- 
prise, she said, “I declare, I believe I shall look genteel 
for once in my life, thanks to your taste and skill.” And 
she gave her friend what she called “A good hug and 
kiss.” 

J ane was married on Tuesday, surrounded by a crowd 
of well-wishers who enjoyed the rough plenty of the 
farm. 

It seemed right that the bride and bridegroom who 
had waited so long and been so faithful should have a 
merry wedding and a happy life, and we may hope that 
Esthers present to the bride (a parlor organ, since Jane 
could play a little) made no small part of the music and 
harmony of their lives. 


11 2 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER XV. 

Mr. and Mrs. Peter Mason are seated with their guest 
in the drawing-room of their elegant city residence. The 
lamps are softly shaded. Vases of rare flowers on tables 
and mantel make the air fragrant, and they talk with 
animation and listen with interest, as old friends are apt 
to do after a long separation. 

Mr. and Mrs. Mason had been travelling in onr great 
West and had but lately returned from California. 

They had been describing several amusing things they 
had seen during their absence, and Mr. Mason remarked 
that some people who travel a great deal never see much 
of interest in car or boat, while others are always having 
adventures. 

“How is it with you, Miss Selby ?” he asked. 

“My travelling incidents have been few, for I have not 
travelled much. With the exception of a few trips to the 
White Mountains, my travelling has consisted in riding 
by rail between my aunt’s house in Vermont and my 
brother’s in this State. But the last time I came from 
Vermont, I did have a little adventure,” 


OR ESTHER^ OPPORTUNITIES. 


113 


She then told them about meeting the lady and her 
little boy in the cars, — touching lightly on her own share 
in the adventure. 

She described in glowing words the beauty, youth, 
refinement, and sadness of the lady, and the sweetness 
and beauty of the child. 

“Did you find out her name ?” 

“Yes, she gave me her card, but it was only a name to 
me. I did not know that I had ever heard it before. A 
short time after, however, feeling sure that she needed 
country air, I visited an old friend, mostly to find a good 
boarding place for her on a farm. I unexpectedly ascer- 
tained that her husband’s parents lived in the neighbor- 
hood, and that I had known him when he was a boy. I 
also heard a part of his past history. The names on the 
card were Mr. and Mrs. Clarke Weston, but I had known 
him as Tim Weston. He had discarded his first name 
and used only the middle one. Yes ! your ex-bookkeeper, 
the one who put your name on a note without your per- 
mission.” 

“He was the best bookkeeper I ever had. What a fool 
he was to ruin himself and disgrace his friends that 
way !” 

“Another curious thing happened. The day I arrived 
at my friend’s house she received a letter from over the 
water, from a doctor in a certain hospital giving infor- 
mation concerning this Weston.” 


114 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


She then repeated most of the doctor’s letter, told also 
of the success of her call at his father’s house, and a part 
of the conversation with the wife, when she carried her 
husband’s letter to her. 

“Have you heard from him since ?” Mr. Mason asked, 
evidently very much interested. 

“Mrs. Heartly received a letter from Timothy about 
two weeks since. I borrowed it of her when I visited her 
last week. I have it with me and will read a part of it to 
you if you would like to hear it.” 

When she had read the letter to them, Mrs. Mason said, 
“I should think such a bitter experience as he has had 
would deter him from ever breaking the laws again. If 
he is a sensible man he will see that it doesn y t pay.” 

Mr. Mason, who had risen, walked to the other side of 
the long room and was peering out into the darkness, 
returned slowly to his seat and turning to Esther said, 
“I suppose you thiuk he is all right now that he is con- 
verted ?” 

“I think, if he is sincere, God is able to keep him 
right.” 

“I suppose you know I think more of honesty than I do 
of religion?” 

“And I believe religion includes not only honesty, but 
all the virtues.” 

“Well, I shouldn’t mind taking him back and giving 
him another chance on two conditions. One is that at 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


115 


the end of six months his employer could testify that he 
had served him faithfully for that time. The other is 
that I keep back one hundred dollars each year from his 
salary until the five hundred is paid.” 

“Why!” said his wife, in much astonishment, “I 
thought you would never take him back. You trusted 
him so fully and he disappointed you so fearfully.” 

“I am surprised at myself; but the truth is, I have 
been much bothered with incompetent bookkeepers since 
he left. Then, thanks to Miss Selby’s eloquent presenta- 
tion of the case, I do pity him and his family. Mixed 
motives, you see.” 

“I will confess, Mr. Mason, that I hoped for this result 
when I came here, and I thank you for not disappointing 
me. And now may I give his wife a little hint to keep 
hope alive in her heart ?” 

“Use your own judgment about that, I can trust you,” 
was the cheerful answer. 

Taking a note-book from her pocket, she wrote : 

“Dear Mrs. Weston, 

“When you write to your husband tell him to keep a 
good courage, hold fast to the Father’s hand and expect 
to see his wife and son in about six months.” . . . 

Then she handed it to Mr. Mason, who said with a 
smile, “So that is your way of stating it. I hope he will 
not disappoint us.” 

Esther retired to rest with a thankful heart, and slept 


116 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


calmly, for no dream of the night brought to her eyes 
her brother as he sat after midnight in his library, and 
the sad sight that he saw. 

He had been puzzling over a set of books that an in- 
competent accountant, whom he had just dismissed, had 
left in sad confusion. He had finally given it up in de- 
spair, resolving to avail himself of skilled help on the 
morrow, and had concluded to retire, when he heard, 
just outside of the side door, which was near the library, 
whispering voices, then some one trying to unlock the 
door. 

His first thought was burglars, the next that they 
made too much noise to be burglars. So he went out into 
the hall, softly closing the door after him. 

At last the outer door opened and three men came in, 
two of them almost carrying the third, and, horror of 
horrors ! in the dim light of the turned-down gas he saw 
that the third one was Arthur. 

As they blundered towards him (they were all intoxi- 
cated) he threw open the library door and pointed to a 
lounge. 

The young men reeled past him, tumbled their burden 
onto the lounge, and with downcast eyes stumbled back 
and out of the house. 

Mr. Shelby shut and locked the outer door, entered the 
library, locked that door, then, pale and stern, dropped 
into the chair from which he had risen a few moments 
before. But, oh, with what different feelings ! 


or Esther's opportunities. 


117 


As he sat there hour after hour, looking sternly on his 
unconscious son, hot indignation and overpowering sor- 
row alternately flooded his heart and brain. 

Then he seemed to see again his little boy just begin- 
ning to walk, toddling through the hall to meet him 
when he came home and with outstretched arms begging 
to be taken. He felt again the soft rain of kisses as his 
baby boy lisped, “Arty ’ove papa busel.” 

Then he saw him as a bright, wide awake, red-cheeked, 
school boy, bounding into the house, whistling merrily 
and always seeking out his father to pour into his 
sympathizing ear the story of his victories in school or 
playground. 

Again he saw him as he was when he returned having 
passed a successful examination for entering college — 
his manly look as he said, “Not a condition, Father ; not 
a condition \” 

Then he thought how he had planned for his boy. 

He should have all the money he needed to go through 
college. He would of course graduate with honor. He 
should travel a year, then choose a profession and study 
for it, and become a great and good man — for what irre- 
ligious man who truly loves his son does not wish him to 
be good as well as great ? 

What little time he had taken from his busy, busy 
days, for waking dreams had all been spent on his boy’s 
future. And was that the end ? 


118 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


He looked again at his son lying in a drunken sleep 
before him, and a sharp pang of self-condemnation 
seemed to pierce his heart as he remembered that since 
Arthur entered college he had been so absorbed in busi- 
ness that he had not looked after his boy as he should 
have done. 

When he had asked how he got along in his studies, the 
boy’s assumed carelessness and deep flush as he said, 
“All right, Pater,” ought to have warned him. 

Then he thought with a shudder that he did not know 
even by name many of his son’s associates — perhaps 
those who brought him home were his bosom friends. 

As he thought of his own neglect and his boy’s peril, 
his trouble seemed too great to bear and he fell upon his 
knees and cried in agony, “0 God, save my son !” 

The violent pushing back of the chair aroused the 
sleeper. He started up and gazed wildly around. The 
sight of his father’s sorrow, and the words of his sup- 
plication, sobered him. 

He kneeled beside his father, and as the tears streamed 
over his boyish face, he said solemnly, “Father, I promise 
you that I will never drink another glass of intoxicating 
liquor, so help me God.” 

After that, father and son sat long side by side, making 
those mutual confessions, that restored confidence and 
bound their hearts together with stronger bands of love. 

How much more safe and happy is the son who fully 
confides in his father. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


119 


CHAPTEE XVI. 

At the next meeting of the club of which Arthur was 
a member — it met, by the way, at the house of the rich 
liquor dealer — when the servant filled each one’s glass 
with wine, he quietly let his stand without touching it. 
The others, with one exception, drank and played, played 
and drank for some time without noticing. 

The one exception was a young man who sat next to 
him and who had joined the club that evening. 

He had looked surprised when the wine was brought, 
had noticed that Arthur did not drink, and with a look of 
relief had followed his example. 

After awhile their young host said, “Why, Art, you 
are not drinking your wine ! Isn’t it good ?” 

A chorus of exclamations, “It is prime, it is tip-top !” 
interrupted him. 

When he could be heard again their entertainer asked, 
“Shall I order some other kind ?” 

“No, I thank you,” was the answer. “I think I will 
not take any wine.” 


120 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“Ho ! ho !” said Joe Blank, with a coarse laugh. “So 
the Governor cut up rough the other night. He didn’t 
like the mode of conveyance you took to bring you home, 
eh ? and so he made you promise never to drink any more, 
no, never to drink any more.” This last was sung with 
many grimaces and was followed by a laugh from nearly 
all present. 

When it subsided, Arthur said, frankly, with manly 
courage, although his face flushed hotly, “He did not 
make me promise, but I voluntarily promised him that I 
would never drink another drop, for I was ashamed of 
myself.” 

“So we have a teetotaler with us,” said J oe, sneeringly, 
“but, baby, I am afraid it won’t do for you to come down 
to cold water so suddenly. It won’t be for your health. 
It would not matter so much, boys, if he had only drunk 
such prime stuff as we get here, but after he left the last 
club meeting he went somewhere and got something 
stronger, a good deal stronger, and” — winking — “he 
went home a little ‘How come ye so’.” 

At this ungenerous thrust, Arthur sprang to his feet 
and said, “Boys, I did drink too much wine at the last 
club meeting. If I had not, Joe could never have per- 
suaded me to go with him and drink the vile stuff he gave 
me.” 

Then turning to Joe, he said, “You are not a gentle- 
man, and I will no longer remain in the club with you.” 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


121 


“Nor I,” said Walter Rich, Arthur’s most intimate 
friend, as he sprang to the side of his friend. “Anyone 
who insults Art. insults me.” 

The young man who had joined that night then arose 
and said calmly, “I do not approve of wine drinking, and 
did not know that the members of this club were in the 
habit of drinking, when I joined. I also thought all the 
members were gentlemen. You can cross my name out, 
too,” and, with formal bows, the three left the room, 
leaving the others too much astonished to speak. 

Esther Selby was sitting in what the family called the 
morning room, where she usually sat evenings when she 
was alone, as she happened to be that night. The room 
was not so large as most of the others. There was a 
stand of rare plants, a fine parlor organ, several easy 
chairs, a couch and a recessed window with a cushioned 
seat. She thought it a very cozy room. 

The gas was not lighted, but a narrow bar of light from 
the gas in the hall shone in at the partly open door. 

She sat in the window, her favorite seat, gazing up at 
the solemn stars, keeping company with her own pleasant 
thoughts, when Arthur came in, followed by the two 
young men (he had asked them to come in and talk things 
over), and, throwing himself into a chair, ejaculated, 
“Confound it !” 

“Why, Arthur!” said his aunt as she came forward 


122 


Ought we to care 


and stood in the light of the open door. 

“Excuse me, Auntie, I did not know you were here,” 
and he rose respectfully, introduced the stranger to her, 
and then proceeded to light the gas, while Esther greeted 
Walter, whom she had met before. 

When they were all seated, Arthur said, “Aunt Esther, 
I suppose you will be pleased to hear that I have left the 
club?” He then gave an account of the events of the 
evening, and added, “I think Walter and Edwin were 
very kind to take my part.” 

“I was only too glad of an excuse to leave them,” said 
Edwin Dale. 

Walter, a merry, pleasure-loving young man, said, 
“After all, we shall miss the club meetings. It will be 
awfully dull staying at home, for you know there isn’t 
anything going on in this town, no really good lectures 
or concerts, and hardly ever a party.” 

He looked very disconsolate. 

“Why not form another society yourselves, to-night? 
Here are three ; that is enough to begin with,” said Miss 
Selby. 

“I don’t suppose you mean another whist club ?” said 
Arthur. 

“Do you mean a literary society? Those are pokey 
affairs !” said Walter. 

“No, not wholly literary,” was her answer, “but don’t 
you think that young men of your age, who expect soon 


or Esther's opportunities. 


123 


to take their place among the soldiers in the battle of life, 
ought to prepare themselves so that they can keep 
abreast of the bravest ? Do you think that mere amuse- 
ment ought to be sought exclusively ?” 

She spoke so gently and smiled so sweetly, that the 
young men were at least half convinced. 

“Will you be so kind. Miss Selby,” said Mr. Dale, “as 
to give us some ideas on the subject ?” 

Esther laughingly assured him that she had not elab- 
orated a plan, but perhaps could make some suggestions. 

“How would it do,” said she, “to have the meetings at 
the houses of the members and have your sisters included 
in the membership? It would be a compliment and 
pleasure to them and insure carefulness in admitting only 
young men of good character, for you would not intro- 
duce any others to them.” 

Arthur looked confused. He was thinking with shame 
of the kind of man he had introduced to his sister. 

“You could have the first hour of the evening readings, 
discussions, or essays, and music, then games.” 

“But,” exclaimed Arthur, “I thought that games were 
considered too childish for young men like ourselves.” 

“Some games are very silly, but there are others that 
require the keenest wit. You spoke of the scarcity of 
good concerts and lectures ; you could resolve yourselves 
occasionally into a lecture bureau, procure first-rate tal- 
ent and treat the townspeople.” 


124 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


"It wouldn’t do. We could not sell tickets enough to 
pay expenses.” 

"I think your friends would be willing to make good 
the deficiency. They could afford to, for the saving in 
the item of wine would provide many an intellectual 
feast.” 

"You make an attractive programme. Please go on.” 

"In the summer you could have picnics, excursions by 
land or water, and lawn tennis. 

"Oh! there is no danger but that twenty or more 
young, healthy people, banded together, would find 
plenty of ways to enjoy themselves without being re- 
duced to the strait of sitting hour after hour handling 
a set of painted toys that were invented to amuse the 
imbecile son of a king, and have since been the insepar- 
able companions of gamblers, cheats and drunkards.” 

"You speak strongly, Auntie, and we feel like hiding 
our diminished heads, don’t we, boys ?” 

"I agree with Miss Selby perfectly, now that she states 
the matter in that way. I never saw it in that light be- 
fore.” This from Edwin. 

Walter laughed uneasily and said, "Do, Miss Selby, 
tell us about some game that is not silly !” 

"Did you ever play ‘What is my thought like’ ?” 

"Yes, but I do not think much of it. If you can’t 
answer quickly you feel so foolish, you know.” 

"I think you did not learn the right way to play it. 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


125 


Care should be taken to fully explain the rules of the 
game before commencing, since we all know that some 
minds — and those often the most powerful — work 
slowly, while others are quick as a flash. So to remove 
all embarrassment, if one is not ready quickly, he or she 
says, ‘After recitation' or ‘Longer time wanted, say next 
recitation,' but in the latter case a rather elaborate com- 
parison is expected. When the questions have gone 
round the circle, the first one who asked, ‘What is my 
thought like,' rises and says, ‘Who is ready to recite now ?' 
If no one answers, they go round the circle again or 
drop the game.” 

“I wish you would repeat some thoughts and compari- 
sons, if you remember any.” 

She thought a moment, smiled, and said, “One cannot 
always remember the brightest, deepest things one has 
heard, but perhaps I can give you a few common ones. 
One said, ‘What is my thought like ?' A young lady next 
to him answered ‘Our big dog.' ‘I was thinking of our 
host. Why is a big dog like him?' ‘Not all big dogs are 
like him,' was the quick reply, ‘but ours is, for he pro- 
tects his friends, they love him, and his enemies fear 
him.' A merry young fellow was asked by his chum, 
‘What is my thought like?’ ‘It is like the grass of the 
lawn outside.' "I was thinking about my head. It 
aches. How do you prove the likeness?’ ‘They are 
alike because they are fresh, green and smooth, also be- 


126 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


cause they are refreshing and cheering to the eye of a 
friend’ — and the look of affectionate regard condoned 
the impertinence. A very young girl was asked the usual 
question, and she gave as a likeness ‘a croquet set.’ The 
thought was ‘a cannon on Independence day.’ She said 
in great haste, ‘It is like it because — because, it is.’ On 
being told that was a woman’s reason, she exclaimed, 
‘Oh ! I meant to say because the balls were going off.’ Of 
course there was a general laugh. Young folks like to 
laugh and I think it does them good. A lady was told 
that her thought was like a grate full of coal. On being 
told that her thought was the last new bonnet, the ques- 
tioner said ‘After recitation.’ When the questions had 
gone round and the question asked, ‘Is any one prepared 
to recite,’ he said, ‘Required the likeness between a grate 
full of coal and the last new bonnet. Scientific men pro- 
fess to admire the colors and formation of coal, and good 
judges do doubtless admire the last new bonnet, but I 
admire the coal when it has been kindled and gives out 
rosy sparkles of glowing heat, and the bonnet when a 
pair of bright eyes kindle and sparkle and flash beneath 
it.’ ” 

“What shall we call our society,” said Arthur, “for I 
suppose we are to form one right here.” 

“Call it the R. E. S.” 

“Rational Enjoyment Society,” said Edwin. 

“So be it,” they chorused. 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


12 7 < 


“No wine used at the meetings; number of members 
limited to twenty ; places of meeting limited to six.” 

“Why so?” 

“For various reasons. If only six houses are depended 
upon and those freely offered by those who have houses 
large enough to entertain a large party, and in a central 
location, there will not be the fuss of finding a place for 
the meeting every once in a while. Moreover, if any one 
wishes to propose as a member a young man who is intel- 
ligent and gentlemanly, he can be considered eligible even 
if he does not live in a large house.” 

So Arthur procured a blank book. The rules suggested 
were written down under the name R. E. S., and another 
added at Arthur’s request: “No young man of doubtful 
morals shall be eligible to membership.” 

Underneath each of the three young men signed his 
name. 

Then they invited Miss Selby to do the same. 

She declined, saying, “I think it would be better to 
have only those about your own age. When you meet here 
I shall be glad if you will give me a welcome if I come in 
for a short time.” 

She had no doubt about the welcome as she looked at 
their frank and eager faces as they said over and over 
again, “We shall be so glad to see you,” and “Be sure to 
come.” 

We may as well say here that the R. E. S. flourished 


128 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


and became popular. So many were anxious to join be- 
cause they continually heard of the many good times 
enjoyed by the society, that they finally voted to admit 
thirty. Under its management many good lectures and 
concerts were given and the town at large profited by it, 
the general tone of society being distinctly raised by its 
means. 

More than one young man was restrained from vice by 
the desire to enter or keep within the charmed circle. 


or Esther’s opportunities. 


129 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The first Sunday after Esther’s return she attended 
the morning service at her old church home and after- 
wards went into the Sunday School, for she was one of 
those who never outgrow the Sunday School ; but always 
find pleasure and profit by attending it in whatever town 
they happen to be. 

That day she took a seat near a Bible class of ladies. 
Their teacher, Mr. Eliot, was an acquaintance of hers and 
he promptly and cordially invited her to join the class. 

She noticed that every Sunday the superintendent 
spent the first part of the session in the task of procuring 
substitutes for the many absent teachers, and she pitied 
him very much, for he seemed tired and worried, and she 
thought to herself, "When teachers expect to be absent 
they should provide substitutes themselves, if possible.” 

He had come to Mr. Eliot’s class for one teacher each 
Sunday, those whom he asked seemed rather reluctant 
to leave their pleasant class. 

The fourth Sunday he came and stood by the class. 


130 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


At last, making as it were a desperate effort, he said, 
“It is the same old story, Mr. Eliot; I want a teacher. 
There are more absent this summer than ever before, I 
think. Each one of your class has in turn helped me in 
that way with the exception of one, who is a stranger to 
me.” 

Mr. Eliot hastened to introduce Miss Selby to Mr. 
Worth. 

Mr. Worth then said, “I feel reluctant to ask you to 
take this class, for there are very few who will try to 
teach it if they can help it. They are bright boys but very 
unruly.” 

“I will try to do my best,” was the smiling reply, as 
she arose promptly to follow him. 

He introduced her to the class as “Miss Selby, boys,” 
and then, evidently relieved of a great load of responsi- 
bility, walked away. 

The boys all had open countenances, if a broad grin 
could make them so, with one exception. He looked 
sullen. 

With a cheerful, “What a pleasant morning it is, boys,” 
she sat down. A boy in front of her responded with an 
indescribable drawl, “Is it possible ! You don’t say so !” 

Then the whole class giggled. 

Esther took no notice, but remarked that she had no 
lesson book, and asked the boy who tried to be so funny 
to lend her his. With a very low bow he opened his book 


or Esther's opportunities. 


131 


and presented it to her; then in a painstaking way he 
pointed out to her just where to begin, — the rest vastly 
amused. Then he leaned back, folded his arms and 
closed his eyes. His looks said as plainly as words, "I 
have no book, therefore I have nothing to do but go to 
sleep.” 

At this they all laughed. Their teacher said pleas- 
antly : “I hope you all have learned the lesson. You may 
open your books.” 

Two or three obeyed, but they were all so occupied in 
watching the noddings and snoring, the frowns and 
winks of the funny boy, that they paid no attention to 
her. 

Finding it impossible to gain their attention she laid 
down her book, closed her eyes and sent up a silent peti- 
tion to Him who giveth liberally to all who lack wisdom, 
if they come to Him and ask. 

Quickly and surely came the answer. 

As she opened her eyes she saw a boy stretching up to 
look out of the window ; then nudging the boy next to 
him, he whispered loudly : “Say, isn’t there a bird in that 
tree ?” 

His teacher answered before his mate had time — “Yes, 
there is a bird there. I think it is a yellow bird. I 
think yellow birds are very pretty. Do you have many 
round here ?” 

“No,” said the boy who was trying to look out of the 


132 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


window; “there ain’t many. I wish there was. I think 
they are prettier than canaries.” 

“And the trees they live in are so beautiful, too. 
When I was coming to church I passed a garden. It was 
not a large garden, but there were such quantities of 
beautiful flowers in it. I do not know who lives there ; 
but when I saw all those flowers, what kind of people do 
you think I decided must live there ?” 

“Folks that liked to work,” said one boy. 

“They must work a great deal to keep them looking so 
nice,” she answered. “But you don’t think they would 
have so many flowers just because they liked to work?” 

“No; they have them because they are so pretty and 
smell so sweet.” 

“Because they are so pretty; so then they must love 
beauty. That is what I thought.” 

“I know they must love beautiful things, for I have 
been in the house, and it is just full of beautiful things ! 
Her name is Flora Gardener. My aunt says the name is 
just right for her.” 

“Very appropriate,” said the teacher, with a smile. 

“Perhaps,” said another boy, timidly, “she raises them 
to give away. She gives the boys some.” 

“Perhaps she thinks the pleased face of a boy is pret- 
tier than flowers,” said Miss Selby. “Then we think we 
can tell a little what people love by what they take pains 
to make or have ? I suppose you all know who made the 
birds, trees and flowers ?” 


ok Esther's opportunities 


133 


“God,” said several, softly. 

“Then we know that He loves beauty, don't we ?” 

One or two said yes, but the mischievous boy, looking 
provokingly at a very, very plain boy who sat at the end 
of the seat, said, “Then He don't love homely boys!” 
This with an air of conviction. 

He received in return a look of sullen hatred. 

Miss Selby looked at the speaker reprovingly, but she 
asked, “Have either of you a sister near your own age ?” 

“I have,” said the last speaker, and his face beamed 
with affectionate pride. 

“Ah !” thought his teacher, “he loves his sister ; there 
is some good in him.” 

Her next question was, “What is the color of her eyes ?” 

This time the brother was not quick enough : the boy 
who sat next to him answered, “She has blue eyes and 
light hair, and it curls.” 

“Now, suppose that next week she should be invited to 
a party and — has she a mother ?” 

“Yes,” softly from her brother. 

“Well, her mother should dress her in a blue gown, 
beautifully trimmed and with sprays of white pinks and 
forget-me-nots on the waist, but just as she was starting 
out she should see that it was raining a little, so her 
mother should say, ‘Put on your waterproof.' If she is 
an obedient little girl, as I hope she is, she will obey. 
Now, if one should meet her on the street, he would see 


134 


OUGHT? WE TO CARE 


a little black figure running along to get out of the rain. 
He would not know that she was dressed so beautifully, 
but you would know. You could almost see the flowers, 
and you know that, when she arrives at the beautiful 
house where the party is to be, she will throw off the black 
garment and look so pretty. Now, God, for some wise 
reason of His own, thinks it best that some boy should 
wear a plain body, but that is only his outside garment. 
If his own self, his soul or spirit is beautiful, if it is kind, 
patient, brave and loving to those around him, if he 
trusts and loves the dear Savior, God will know that he 
is beautiful and will love him, and when he arrives at the 
beautiful palace of the King in Heaven, men and angels 
will see that he is beautiful, for he will be dressed in the 
white and shining garment of Christ’s righteousness.” 

The class was very still now, magnetized by her ear- 
nestness. 

After a short pause she said, “When I was in Vermont 
I was taking a walk one day and came to a small house 
with a pretty garden. On a rustic seat under a tree sat a 
little girl with her doll, and on the doorstep lay the pret- 
tiest cat I ever saw. As I stopped to look at it, it got up, 
came to me, rubbed its head against my hand and let me 
stroke it as much as I pleased. It seemed to be perfectly 
fearless. I asked the little girl if the cat belonged in that 
house. She said, ‘Yes, marm/ Then I asked if a boy 
lived in the house ? She answered quickly and brightly, 
‘Oh, yes ! my brother Robert ; he is twelve years old/ 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


135 


“Do you know why I asked if a boy lived there ?” 

One little fellow said, “Some boys plague cats.” 

“Then I said, ‘He is a kind boy, isn't he?' 

“ ‘Oh, yes, indeed ! He is just as kind as he can be. 
Why ! the other day he went fishing, and a little boy 
climbed a tree near by and fell and broke his leg. Rob- 
ert told him he would run and get some one to carry him 
home, but he cried and begged him not to go away. 
Then he wanted Robert to take him on his back and carry 
him. So he managed to get him up on his back, but he 
was so heavy for him that when he got to the nearest 
house Robert was so tired he nearly fainted. The folks 
asked him why he did not leave him and get help, but 
Robert told them he could not bear to leave him crying 
so/ 

“Suppose one of you boys should be in a burning house. 
You are at a window in one of the upper stories. The 
flames have not reached that side of the house yet, but 
the stairs are on fire, and they have no ladder long enough 
to reach the window. At last a man says, ‘There is a 
trellis for vines to run on that reaches the window. If it 
was strong enough for a man to climb I could carry up a 
rope, and we could get him down. Perhaps it would bear 
a boy/ Then just such a kind boy as I have been telling 
about comes forward and says, ‘I will go/ ‘But/ says the 
man, ‘I am afraid it will not bear you/ ‘I will try, if you 
will tell me what to do/ The man gives him a ball of 


136 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


twine with a small weight on one end. He ties the other 
end around his waist and puts the ball in his pocket. The 
man tells him to throw the ball out of the window when 
he has got in and they will fasten it to a strong rope, 
which he must draw up into the window and pass round 
a bed-post or something round, smooth and heavy, if he 
can. So the boy climbs up the trellis. It cracks and 
shakes, but he does not fall. He gets into the window and 
draws up the rope as he was told. The men tie a blanket 
by the four corners and fasten it to the end of the rope, 
and when the boy lets down the other end of the line they 
draw the blanket up until it is even with the window, and 
call to you to get in. You do so, and they lower you care- 
fully down and you are safe. Then they draw up the 
blanket again, the boy steps in and it is none too soon, 
for you can see the red light of the fire behind him and 
the room is full of smoke, which almost blinds him. A 
few moments more and it would be too late. He is saved, 
but he has risked his life twice over, once by climbing the 
frail trellis and once by staying in that room so long. 
Now, how would you feel towards that boy who saved 
your life at the risk of his own ? What would you do for 
him?” 

“Fd love him always,” said one boy. 

“Fd do anything for him that he wanted,” said an- 
other. 

“I would give him my pony,” said a third. 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


137 


By this time all the class were gathered closely around 
her. She noticed that the plain boy was closest of all, so 
she quietly passed her arm around him as she said, “You 
know, dear boys, that the dear Savior was so kind and 
loved you so much that He not only risked His life, but 
He suffered and died a cruel death on the cross, that you 
may be saved, that you may be happy in loving Him and 
doing as He wants you to, much happier than you would 
be if you were wicked boys — and that you may have that 
beautiful dress in Heaven. Don’t you think you ought 
to love Him for this ?” 

Two or three said “yes” softly. 

The superintendent touched his bell, and, during the 
closing exercises, to the surprise of those near it, that 
class kept comparatively quiet, for the children had some- 
thing to think of as they sat looking at their teacher with 
pleased surprise. 

As soon as the exercises were over they crowded around 
Esther, saying, “Please be our teacher next Sunday.” 

“Your teacher will be here next Sunday, won’t she ?” 

“We don’t want her. She’s no good.” 

“That’s so ! She asks the questions round, and, if we 
don’t know, she answers herself. Then, all the rest of the 
time, she keeps saying, ‘Keep still, boys.’ ” 

“ ‘Stop talking, boys,’ and ‘I am ashamed of you.’ ” 
This by the funny boy, who evidently mimics her tone 
and manner. 


138 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“But, Miss Selby,” sa : d another, eagerly, trying to get 
in his word, “Our teacher has gone to the White Moun- 
tains, and is going to stay all summer. She told me so 
the last time I saw her.” 

At this, “Do be our teacher,” came in chorus. 

“If the superintendent thinks best, I will take the 
class, on one condition — that you study your lesson, and 
get your friends to help you, so that you will know it 
very well. You know,” she added, smiling, “I can’t tell 
stories all the time.” 

“But you will tell us some ?” 

“That depends on your good behavior,” she said, 
laughing. 

Then, with merry good-byes, they went out, all but 
the homely boy, who waited until all had gone. Then 
he looked up in her face and said, eagerly, “Do you think 
I could ever be beautiful — inside ?” 

“Certainly,” she answered, cheerfully; “if you love 
and serve Christ.” 

“But do you mean that God can love me? I know 
He loves, pities me, that way, but will He love me the 
way mothers love handsome children ?” 

“Of course, for you will be beautiful, for you will be 
like Christ, who is the one among ten thousand and the 
one altogether lovely.” 

As she stooped and kissed him, she noticed his eyes, 
which were large, dark and beautiful, and they were 
shining through tears. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


139 


Then they walked out, hand in hand. 

Mr. Worth, who had pretended to be busy with his 
papers, followed her out, and, when the boy left her at 
the door, held out his hand and said, “Miss Selby, I 
thank you for taking that class to-day, but I am curious 
to know what you did to them. Did you magnetize 
them ?” 

“I found I lacked wisdom, and I asked of Him who 
giveth liberally. Blessed be His name,” she said, softly. 

“Amen,” was the reverent response. 

Then, after a pause, “Will you take the class next Sun- 
day?” 

“I have agreed with them to do so on two conditions. 
One is, if you think it best. The other depends on them- 
selves.” 

“I shall be very grateful to you if you will,” was the 
earnest answer. 


140 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Five months after Esther’s visit at Mr. Mason’s she 
received the following note : 

“Dear Miss Selby, 

“Please read the enclosed letter, direct and send it, as 
I suppose you can ascertain the address of Weston’s em- 
ployer. I think the six months will be up by the time he 
receives the letter. You will oblige 

“Yours, etc.” 

The letter ran as follows : 

“A lady so well pleaded the cause of the man who 
forged my name that, his conduct before he committed 
the crime having been so excellent, I consented to re- 
ceive him again into my employ on certain conditions. 
One of these conditions was that you should be able at 
the end of six months to testify that he had been honest 
and faithful during that time. By the time this reaches 
you, I think the six months will have expired. In case 
you should be able to send me a satisfactory report, will 
you please give the enclosed letter to him, and answer as 
soon as convenient.” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


141 


In due time Mr. Mason received an answer, which he 
sent to Miss Selby with a note saying he thought she 
would be pleased to read it and asking her to communi- 
cate the tidings to his friends. 

Our readers will perhaps like to read it, too : 

“Mr. Peter Mason, 

“Dear Sir : I received your letter duly. I am glad to 
testify that the person you refer to has been in my em- 
ploy about six months, and has conducted himself in a 
praiseworthy manner. I shall be sorry to lose his serv- 
ices, for, besides doing his work faithfully, he is a 
valuable example to the other young men in my employ. 
I was thinking, before I received your letter, that he had 
too much ability for the position he occupies, and, as I 
could not advance him, for my head-bookkeeper has been 
many years in my service, I decided to use my influence 
in procuring a more lucrative position for him. You 
ought to have seen the poor fellow when he read your 
letter. At first he was dumb with surprise, then, strong 
man that he is, he wept tears of joy. If you could have 
heard his expressions of gratitude to you, the lady, my- 
self, and, most of all, to God, you would have been more 
than repaid for your kindness to him. He has lived in 
one room, in a poor part of the city, and has spent all of 
his spare time in helping and comforting the poor and 
afflicted and in trying to reform the wicked, for he is a 
true disciple of his Lord and ‘goes about doing good/ The 


142 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


poor here will miss him very much, but their loss, I have 
no doubt, will be gain for the poor of Boston. He told 
me he had saved a little more than half enough for a 
second-class passage, but a steerage passage would do, 
and he should start as soon as I could get some one to 
take his place, but of course he would stay long enough to 
teach some one the duties of the place. I shall furnish 
him with enough money to buy a second-class ticket and 
a comfortable outfit, as I do not like to have him expose 
his health by going in the steerage ; neither do I like to 
be so far behind my brother merchant over the sea. 
Hoping that we are also brothers in Christ, I subscribe 
myself, 

“Your friend and brother, 

“Tiieo. G-. Rule." 

Esther thought it would be well to have a home ready 
for him on his return, a “sanctuary" to which he could 
flee when curious eyes and sneering tongues should be 
too much for him. 

So she decided to carry the tidings herself and assist 
his wife all she could in establishing a home. For- 
tunately, one of her houses in Boston was vacant, and 
she would offer it to her for a year, at a rate that would 
be within her means. 

On her arrival she told mother and wife of her con- 
versation with Mr. Mason, his promise, his letter; then 
she read the answer. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


143 


The mother laughed and cried. The wife fainted, but 
soon revived, for joy seldom kills. 

At last they became calm enough to think of Mr. Wes- 
ton, and his wife ventured to call him. 

As he entered the house, leading his grandson, he saw 
the visitor, and greeted her cordially. He was then told 
about the letter and asked if he would like to hear it. 

He said, “I don’t know as I do,” but he sat down and 
raised the boy to his knee. 

When the reading was finished, his wife, who sat be- 
side him, clasped his arm with both hands and said, 
pleadingly, “You will forgive him now?” 

“If Mr. Mason can forgive him, I don’t know but I 
can, seeing as I’m the boy’s father,” he said, gruffly, but 
there was a suspicious tremble in his voice. 

He put his grandson down and walked to the window, 
saying, “I wonder if that cow is out again.” 

By this time Ada had recovered, and exclaimed with 
animation, “I must go right back to Father’s and go 
house-hunting.” 

“I have a vacant house that I think would suit you. It 
is quite near Mr. Mason’s place of business,” said Miss 
Selby. 

“Oh, that is so good of you, for I don’t like house- 
hunting, but” — after a moment’s thought — “is it a small 
one? You know, we must make a very small one do, 
until” — in a very low tone — “we pay it up,” and a deep 
flush suffused her pure face. 


144 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


Oh ! when two are truly one in heart, how the sins of 
the guilty one hurt the innocent one ! 

Then Ada said, musingly, “I ought to send to Ver- 
mont for my furniture. I have a little stored there. I 
think, if I write, the doctor will see to sending it. When 
I left,” — turning to Esther — “I promised the doctor’s 
mother I would write to her as soon as I arrived at home, 
and I had such a kind letter in return, and a message 
from her son, that, if at any time he could aid me in any 
way, he would be happy to do so.” 

Mr. Weston, who had taken a paper from his desk and 
written something, then gave Ada a check, saying, 
“When you write, send this to the doctor, to pay the 
freight, and,” hesitating, “didn’t I hear you tell Mother 
the other day that you had sold some of your furniture ? 
Well, I’ve been thinking of going to Boston, so I guess I 
will go in a day or two and buy you some more.” 

With a quick, impulsive movement, Ada put her arms 
around his neck and kissed him. I think that finished 
the winning of his heart. 

As she thanked him, with tears, she said, “We shall 
not need much more, for Father has some, and I think 
he will board with us. Then I can have dear old Han- 
nah to help me,” she said, joyfully. 

The house was found to be satisfactory. Miss Selby 
sent in several beautiful articles, and, wonderful to re- 
late, Mr. Weston insisted upon bringing several useful 


or Esther’s opportunities. 


145 


ones. God had been teaching him, first by sore trouble, 
next by loving kindness and great relief, to hold his 
money in a looser grasp. 

In a few days they were snugly settled and waiting, 
with what patience they had, to welcome the wanderer. 

He returned sooner than they had dared to expect, and 
need I say that he redeemed his good name, and that he 
never committed another crime? For, “Whom God 
keeps is well and safely kept.” 

Their lovely Christian home in after years was one of 
the many where a tumult of joyful expectation was 
always raised at the announcement, “Aunt Esther is 
coming.” 


146 


OUGHT WE TO CAKE 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The evening that the R. E. S. was formed, Edwin Dale 
seemed pleased with the suggestion that the sisters 
should be asked to join the society. Afterwards he 
seemed particularly pleased with Arthur’s sister, and it 
was not long before they formed another society with 
two members, the Mutual Admiration Society. 

Her careful, loving aunt, seeing this, of course asked 
Arthur a few questions such as, “Who is Edwin Dale ?” 

“One of my classmates in college. His family live in 
Xew York, but they are travelling in Europe this year, 
so Ed is spending his vacation with his aunt, Mrs. Went- 
worth.” 

“What is his character?” 

“Oh ! he is tip-top — doesn’t drink or anything of that 
sort, you know.” 

“He doesn’t look very strong.” 

“He doesn’t; that is a fact, but he looks better than 
he did when he came to college. If air and exercise will 
make him strong, he will soon be a Samson. He is the 


or Esther's opportunities. 


147 


most industrious man in the gym. He can do quite a 
number of things now he would not have dared to try 
when he came. He is really developing considerable 
muscle, although he is not quite as strong as I am yet” — 
and the vain young man stretched out his right arm and 
viewed it with great complacency. 

“What is his religious character?” 

“Oh ! he goes to church as steady as a deacon. He is 
all right, Auntie,” and the young man strolled out of 
the room, afraid, perhaps, that she would ask him if he, 
too, went to church as steady as a deacon. 

There is another college vacation, and, although Ed- 
win Dale’s parents have returned from Europe, he is 
spending this vacation with his aunt. 

Arthur is also at home. 

One day, at breakfast, Esther said to her nephew, “I 
hear that there is to be a temperance meeting in the 
town hall to-night. Several noted men are expected to 
address the meeting. I should like to go if you will be 
my escort.” 

“I am so sorry !” he replied, “but I made an engage- 
ment a week ago, for to-night, but I think I can get away 
in season to escort you home, perhaps to hear one or two 
of the last speakers. How would you like to start early, 
let me see you into a good seat, and then call for you ?” 

“I should like it very well. You know I always go 


148 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


early when 1 can, for I like one of the front seats near 
the speakers. I can understand what they really mean 
better if I can see the expression of their faces.” 

So, following out this programme, Esther found her- 
self seated to her own satisfaction, before the speakers 
came in. 

Of those who sat on the platform, one of the last to 
arrive was an old gentleman who had been for many 
years a professor in one of our colleges, but had retired to 
spend the rest of his life in his native town. He rarely 
went out in the evening. His great love for the cause of 
temperance had probably induced him to come this even- 
ing to give something from the stores of his experience to 
aid the cause. He was leaning on the arm of the one 
whom Esther had called in her thoughts the “Ought we 
to care preacher.” 

When the younger man had seen his aged friend com- 
fortably seated, he took a chair on the platform near a 
back entrance of the hall. 

The meeting was approaching its close. The speeches 
had been good, the singing excellent. 

After singing by a large choir, the chairman said, “We 
shall have two more short speeches. After that the audi- 
ence is requested to join in singing ‘Hail, Columbia/ I 
have the pleasure of announcing our fellow townsman. 
Professor Hall.” 

As the old gentleman arose, the door at the back of the 


or Esther's opportunities. 


149 


platform was thrown open, and a boy, followed by a puff 
of smoke, rushed down the aisle and out at the front 
door, crying, “Fire ! Fire !” 

All was at once dire confusion, — everyone rushing for 
the front doors. 

As there were a great many women and children, it 
seemed likely that many would be injured, if not killed. 

Esther had risen and was gazing at the old professor, 
who had quietly resumed his seat and was intently 
watching his friend. The other occupants of the plat- 
form had not been behind in the rush. “The preacher” 
had quickly closed the door which the boy had opened, 
stepped to the front of the platform, motioned to Esther, 
who sprang quickly to his side, then shouted in trumpet 
tones, “Stop ! for your lives stop !” 

The crowd did stop, and turned as one man, the first 
thought in nearly every mind being, we are rushing into 
the fire. 

Then he said to Esther, “Sing.” 

Clear and sweet rang out her voice, his loud and 
strong, “All hail the power of Jesus’ name.” 

Some stopped in astonishment, others went quickly 
out, but in a more orderly manner, while still others said, 
“It is a false alarm, of course, or they would not stand 
there and sing.” 

Then, with many a backward glance, the crowd safely 
made its exit. The three on the platform were the last 
ones out. 


150 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


The crowd rapidly dispersed, some to their homes, 
many to the street behind the hall, where the fire was 
raging. 

As they reached the outer door, Esther was eagerly 
taken possession of by Arthur, who was anxiously look- 
ing for her. 

The old gentleman, who had been so calm when he 
thought himself in danger, was now trembling with 
weakness, and his friend hastened to assist him to a car- 
riage that stood near. Then, raising his hat to Esther, 
he said, earnestly, “I am so grateful to you for your 
help,” and sprang into the carriage and drove off. 

The next evening Esther attended the weekly lecture 
at the church she called “home.” 

Somehow she was not surprised when she saw the hero 
of the night before enter the pulpit with her pastor. I 
have called him a hero, for, is not that man a hero who 
awaits a probable danger to himself, and by his self- 
possession and prompt action saves many others from 
certain harm ? 

After the opening prayer the pastor said, “As I have 
a severe cold, my friend, Rev. John Heartly, who is visit- 
ing at Professor HalFs, has kindly consented to take my 
place this evening.” 

The lecturer said : 

“Friends, I am a stranger to all here. I do not think 
I know the name of one person present. Therefore, in 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


151 


what I say, you may be sure that I mean to make no per- 
sonal allusion to anyone. Only such part of my remarks 
as your conscience says belongs to you, you may appro- 
priate. 

“Although I call this a lecture, I shall take a text, 
‘Give an account of thy stewardship/ 

“The mention of a steward presupposes a master, 
goods intrusted and directions given by the master. We 
are all stewards. Our Master — whether we acknowledge 
Him or not — is God, and the goods intrusted to us are of 
such a variety, richness, beauty and value as only the 
King of the whole universe could possess. I will men- 
tion some of the goods, and try to bring before your 
minds some of the stewards and their account of how 
they use them. 

“Some of the goods are: business ability, wealth, 
beauty, musical talent, ingenuity, power, time, elo- 
quence. His book of directions is the Bible. 

“Here is a man who says, ‘Business ability? Well, I 
rather think I have that. Just before the year com- 
menced I was a bookkeeper, and had been for some years, 
but I saved money every year, and I had my eye on this 
business stand. The proprietor had made money, and I 
knew that if I had the place I could make more, in 
various ways, than he did. Last year was a hard year 
for business men; he met with some losses — careless, I 
guess — and I found out that he had several notes out- 


152 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


standing. As I feared that the holders would not press 
for payment and I should have to wait too long, I went 
to them, one after another, and bought the notes, all but 
one. Then I demanded payment. Of course he could 
not pay them all at once without selling out. He could 
not sell at private sale, for no one wanted to commence 
business in such a dull year. So he sold at auction. I 
bought cheap. Of course his clerks were out of employ. 
I told them I would employ half of them, but could give 
them only two-thirds as much as they had been getting. 
They grumbled, but enough stayed to do the work, with 
a little pushing. One corner of the building had been 
I el for a temperance eating-room, but I had a chance to 
let it for a first-class restaurant, wines and so forth, you 
know, for double the rent the other paid. I gave the 
other notice to quit. So, for all it has been a dull year, 
I have made something and have a good start for next 
year/ 

“Hear what the Master says: ‘Thou art a dishonest 
steward. Thou hast used my goods for thine own selfish 
purposes and hast not consulted my book of directions. 
My golden rule thou hast broken, and hast not heeded 
the woe I pronounced on him who giveth to his brother 
strong drink/ 

“Another comes with a rather downcast look, and says, 
T thought I possessed a fair business capacity, but I fear 
my friends think I have lost it during the past year. I 


or Esther's opportunities. 


153 


have only made enough to cover expenses. To be sure, it 
has been a dull year, and I might have dismissed some of 
my clerks. I really did not have enough for them to do. 
Then, I held a note against my neighbor round the cor- 
ner. A man wanted to buy it of me, but I feared he 
meant to demand payment immediately, and I knew it 
would distress the drawer to pay then, so I lost that. 
Then, some of his clerks were thrown out of employment, 
and they had families to support. Some of them came 
to me in great trouble, and I planned a new branch to my 
business, so that I could employ them, and that hardly 
paid expenses. Then, a cousin of mine who had been in- 
temperate, but had signed the pledge and had been helped 
to keep sober by having the temperance eating-house on 
the corner, where he took his dinners, found the new 
restaurant too much for him. The wines tempted him, 
and I have had to nearly support his family/ 

“The Master’s voice comes sweet and clear, ‘Well 
done, good and faithful servant. Inasmuch as ye have 
done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it 
unto me/ 

“Here is a wealthy man ; what does he say : ‘Father left 
me quite a pile, and I have added to it, so I don’t need to 
worry now. I have several ships on the ocean, and when 
they come in with their rich cargoes, I mean to go back to 
my native town and build a house on the old place that 
will astonish the natives. And the grounds shall be laid 


154 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


out regardless of expense, the house furnished fit for a 
king/ 

“A doctor meets him and says, ‘Really, Mr. Dives, you 
ought to do something about those tenement houses of 
yours. The drainage ought to be attended to; there are 
several cases of fever caused by your neglect of it. Old 
Mrs. Brown is very sick. The house she lives in is not 
fit for a barn, the wind comes in through so many holes 
that should be mended/ ‘I should not make much on 
them if I spent all the rent fixing them up to suit their 
tastes and yours/ he says, with a sneer. 

“A little girl meets him and, with trembling voice, 
says, ‘Please, sir, will you wait for our rent a few days ? 
Mother has been very sick, and could not earn anything, 
but as soon as she gets better she will pay you/ ‘No/ he 
says, harshly, ‘if she can’t pay she must go. Tell her 
not to let me find her there to-morrow/ ‘But/ the girl 
ventures to say, ‘she is sick now, and if she has to go, I 
am afraid it will kill her/ ‘I can’t help that/ he says, 
loudly ; ‘I keep my houses to let for money, not for poor- 
houses or hospitals ; tell her she must go/ and the child 
runs away, frightened at his angry words and looks. 

“The voice of the Master comes to him in thunder 
tones : ‘You speak as if that wealth was yours. Do you 
not know that you are only a steward ; that the wealth is 
mine ; that you are a thief stealing that which I intrusted 
to you, and oppressing the poor? Thou mayest be no 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


155 


longer steward. I will cause the winds and waves to 
destroy your ships, the flames to consume your ware- 
houses, and you shall learn by sad experience how to pity 
the poor V ” 


156 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER XX. 

“Let us look at a pleasanter picture. From yonder 
warehouse comes a man with light, springing step and 
radiant face. He meets his pastor, grasps his hand, and 
says, ‘Have you heard the news ?’ 

“Being answered in the negative, he says, ‘My uncle in 
India has left me a fortune ! Now that debt on the 
church shall be paid, and a parsonage built, and, oh ! did 
you know? I have always wanted to build some nice 
convenient houses that I would let at a reasonable rate. 
I have secured a piece of land just right for them and 
I propose to have one house in three what I call a “try 
house.” I will let any man who has a family and who is 
in the habit of drinking, live in the house, rent free, one 
year, if he will totally abstain from intoxicants. If it 
can be proved that he drinks one glass, he must leave 
and give place to another. Also one house larger than 
the rest I propose to have fitted up conveniently in suites 
of two or three rooms, to let at a very low rate to widows 
and lonely women/ 


or Esther's opportunities. 


157 


“The pastor says, T am glad you are intrusted with a 
fortune, for I am sure you will be a faithful steward, as 
your first thought seems to be for His cause and His 
poor/ 

“A lady who has been called very beautiful says, ‘I 
created quite a sensation at Newport last summer; had 
hosts of admirers. My winter was a brilliant success. I 
went to balls, parties, operas, concerts and theatres — 
something every night, and was admired everywhere, 
but’ — looking in the glass — fit seems to me I have faded ! 
I should not think one year could have altered me so 
much/ Then her conscience speaks to her : ‘You have 
been a spendthrift. In your pursuit of pleasure you have 
been extravagant. Now, in health, on which beauty so 
much depends, you are bankrupt/ 

“Another, who has spent some little time in what is 
called ‘Society/ is dissatisfied and says to an old lady, a 
friend of the family, ‘They tell me I am so beautiful 
that I ought to shine in Society, but I do not enjoy it. It 
seems to me too much like being on exhibition. Father 
says he used to congratulate himself that he had a pretty 
daughter, but he might as well have a plain one, for he 
scarcely ever sees me, so I shall stay at home more/ ‘Yes, 
dear, I would/ says her friend, ‘and then there are peo- 
ple to whom your beauty would be a joy and refresh- 
ment. They are in hospitals and orphan asylums, where 
the attendants are generally middle-aged or old, and a 


158 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


visit from you would be like a glimpse of blooming fields, 
waving trees, and sunny skies. There are others to whom 
your beauty of face and form, manner and dress, would 
be an education. I mean to the factory girls in the even- 
ing schools and in their poor homes. They would learn 
from your refined expression, ease and modesty of man- 
ner, and taste in dress, what true beauty is, and would 
unconsciously try to mould themselves by it.’ She has 
profited by her old friend’s hints, and grows more beauti- 
ful every day, for her face is illumined by the sweet, lov- 
ing spirit that shines through it. 

“A lady has rare musical talent; she is a star in the 
circle in which she moves. She is praised and her pres- 
ence sought for. No entertainment is considered to be 
perfect without her. But, being intrusted with this tal- 
ent, she has failed to search in the book of instructions 
to see what use to make of it. For there it says, ‘Whatso- 
ever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’ 

“Another, not unmindful of the call so often repeated 
in His Book, to ‘Sing praises unto the Lord,’ has conse- 
crated her talent to His service, and assists with her 
sweet voice in the daily service of His house or, with her 
skillful touch on the piano, aids her fellow worshipers 
in the evening service of song. And by the bedside of 
many an invalid who cannot go out into God’s beautiful 
world to hear the songs of birds, her bird-like notes 
charm away their pain and weariness, and bring a smile 
to lips that have almost forgot to smile. 


or Esther’s opportunities. 


159 


“Another woman has ingenuity. I speak of ingenuity 
instead of genius for the reason that very few have 
genius, but many have ingenuity. This lady possesses 
this faculty in a remarkable degree and she is much won- 
dered at and admired. She expends a large part of the 
power in planning new, pretty and curious things, and 
her nimble fingers are always at work fashioning them. 
I heard it remarked that she wore the most wonderful 
costumes of any woman who entered our church. ‘And 
she plans them all herself !’ was the admiring exclama- 
tion. ‘The designs are so intricate that I spent the whole 
morning last Sunday trying to find out how that last 
suit was made, and had to give it up at last P One of her 
lady admirers said to her, ‘1 don’t see how you can do so 
much ; your house is just filled with pretty things, mats, 
tidies and screens, brackets, table-covers, banners and 
quilts, and others too numerous to mention!’ Well 
pleased, she answers, ‘I could not if I allowed every little 
thing to prevent. Now, there is Cousin Annie — she lives 
on this street, you know — she has nearly as much in- 
genuity as I have, but she hardly ever makes any fancy 
work for herself, only for presents. And what do you 
think she has been doing the past month or so? You 
would never guess ! An acquaintance of hers, who has 
one child and is very poor, thought she could do dress- 
making for her not very stylish neighbors, but she had 
only one good room and a very small one containing her 


160 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


cooking-stove. Of course she had a bed in the larger 
room and it did not seem to be at all suitable for persons 
to come into it and be fitted. So, what did Annie do but 
plan a lounge with a wide back with hinges, so when it 
was let down it made a nice wide bed. It had drawers 
underneath to hold the bedding in the day-time. Then 
she planned out a whole suit from an old one of her own 
for a little girl on the next street, who had not a decent 
one to wear to Sunday School, and, indeed, that is not 
the only one she has made. She is all the time trying to 
make the homes of the poor more comfortable, and even 
beautiful, as she says. Only think, she makes fancy 
articles for them instead of herself ! Then, another 
thing that takes up her time, she reads ever so much. 
Now, I scarcely ever take up a book/ 

“One day there is a fire in the street where this lady 
and her cousin Annie live. All the pretty nick-nacks 
with which the first lady’s house was filled have van- 
ished in smoke, and she is left with her empty heart and 
empty mind to seek shelter in a hotel. But many doors 
are thrown open to Annie, many friendly hands clasp 
hers, and many loving voices beg her to share with them 
the homes she has helped to make comfortable and 
pretty. 

“This man has power. He employs three hundred 
men in his factory. He wants the town to make a road 
past his factory. He has buildings in the town that he 


or Esther's opportunities. 


161 


could let for liquor saloons for double the rent they 
would bring for anything else, so he wants the town to 
vote for license. He tells his men what men and meas- 
ures he wants. He does not tell them they must vote to 
please him. Oh, no ! but they know if they do not vote 
that way, he will discharge them. He wants a State 
office ; they must help to elect him, and when he gains it 
he will use it to legalize an unholy traffic. Sternly and 
solemnly sounds the Master’s voice: ‘You have misused 
the power I intrusted to you to protect the weak and 
right the wrongs around you. Instead, you have used it 
to aid you in grasping political power, which in turn you 
have misused to coin money from the misery and degra- 
dation of others, as all tyrants do. The infernal 
machinery that you have put in motion shall crush your 
own heart. Your only son, whom you love as your own 
soul, will be drawn into the fiery jaws of the monster, 
and you will be powerless to save him/ 

“Another possesses similar power, but he uses it to 
befriend the friendless, to secure the rights of his work- 
men, and though he tries to persuade them to believe in 
the right, the pure and the good, allows them the liberty 
he demands for himself. When he employs a man he 
makes two conditions. One is, that he shall attend the 
evening school, which he supports for their benefit, at 
least one evening in each week. The other is, that they 
shall abstain from all intoxicating drinks. If they break 


162 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


either of these rules they are discharged. He uses his 
vote and influence in town for good men in office, good 
political measures and the cause of religion. You do 
not need to be told that with him the Master is well 
pleased. 

“Time ! — that is what we all have, and how few im- 
prove it as they ought. A notable housewife says, ‘I be- 
lieve in improving the time. If I did not, I could not 
keep my house in order. My house is clean and in good 
order from the attic to the cellar. I have stores of house- 
hold linen, and I don’t believe there is a woman in town 
who has handsomer quilts and comfortables or more of 
them than I have. Then I get the clothes of my family 
done in season.’ At this point her little daughter runs 
in and says, ‘Oh, Mother, you know that poor woman 
who lives on the next street, the one Mrs. Eaton told you 
about and asked if you would go to see her and carry her 
some bedding. Well, they say she nearly froze to death 
last night and is very sick to-day with pneumonia. Why 
didn’t you go, Mother?’ ‘You know, child, that I could 
not, for I had just time to finish your new suit to wear 
to Sunday School to-morrow.’ ‘I don’t want to go to 
Sunday School,’ says the child, fretfully. ‘I never know 
my lesson. All the other girls have their lessons. There 
are lots of questions in them that I can’t find the answers 
to, and you never can spend time to help me.’ She heeds 
not the words in the Book about ‘Offending one of these 
little ones’ and ‘Redeeming the time/ 


or Esther's opportunities. 


163 


“What does Mrs. Eaton say? ‘How time does fly! 
The winter half gone, and it doesn’t seem as tho’ I had 
accomplished half of what I intended to do by this time. 
I certainly thought I should have made one or two rugs 
at least. Let me see, what have I done: my ordinary 
housework and sewing, of course; then there has been 
much sickness and want in the town. I have helped 
what I could, and so many have needed bedding that, 
after giving all I could spare, I had to make some out of 
pieces, and that took time. Then the children are get- 
ting old enough to ask questions about almost everything, 
and I have to get books and refresh my memory quite 
often so as to answer them. Whatever else I have to 
neglect, I will take time to go over their Sunday School 
lessons with them, for not only do they need my help, but 
it refreshes me mentally and spiritually. Their curious 
questions stir up and sharpen my mind, and the answers 
reprove, correct, cheer or comfort my spirit.’ The Mas- 
ter certainly approves this steward’s account. 

“The last that I shall mention is eloquence, although 
you will think of many other goods that the Master has 
intrusted to you or others, and your own consciences will 
tell you whether you are faithful stewards or not. How 
much eloquence is used too often to defeat the ends of 
justice, to defend the wrong, to protect unrighteous 
traffic ; by politicians, for example, for their own selfish 
purposes, and to promulgate error. How little, com- 


164 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


paratively, is used to protect the weak, defend the right, 
clear the innocent, and preach salvation to sinful men. 
Oh ! if you have the gift of eloquence or the magnetic 
power to attract and persuade, use that gift to bring 
meanness, treachery, oppression, unhallowed ambition, 
and wrong of all kinds, into deserved disrepute, use that 
power to the uttermost; use the whole power of your 
mind and will, and by your strong love for them compel 
men to come in from the highways and byways of sin, 
into the peace and safety, the warmth and plenty of their 
Father’s house. Amen.” 


OR Esther's opportunities. 


165 


CHAPTER XXL 

Immediately after the benediction, the pastor, accom- 
panied by his friend, approached Esther as she and her 
brother were leaving their pew, and said, “Mr. and Miss 
Selby, allow me to present my friend, Mr. Heartly.” 

As Mr. Selby stepped back to speak to some one, Mr. 
Heartly and Miss Selby walked down the aisle together. 

The first words that he said to her were, “Mrs. Selby, 
we have met several times under such peculiar circum- 
stances that perhaps you will allow me to waive ceremony 
and ask permission to call on you to-morrow; there is 
something connected with that evening when we first met 
that I would like to tell you about.” 

Esther smiled when she heard the prefix “Mrs.” to her 
name, and answered, “I should be very glad to receive a 
call from you, but I must correct two mistakes you have 
made. That evening you probably refer to was not the 
first time we had met, and I am not Mrs., but Miss 
Selby.” 

He looked perplexed when she mentioned the first 


166 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


mistake, but at the second a light seemed to shine on the 
other and he said, eagerly, “Is it possible that you are 
Miss Esther Selby ?” 

“Not only possible, but certain,” she said, laughing. 
“I think the first time we met was in the Heartly 
orchard. I was looking at a large tree and said, ‘What 
a nice place for a swing V I was startled by hearing a 
voice at my elbow say, “I will put one up for you.’ ” 

“I remember it well,” was the smiling response. 
“Then I may come to-morrow?” 

Mr. Selby, who had come up to them as they reached 
the door, said, “I think you go our way,” and they walked 
on together until they reached the street where Professor 
Hall lived. Then Mr. Selby said, earnestly, “I shall be 
very glad to see you at our house. I want to have a long 
talk with you. Your lecture places some things in a 
new light to me and I begin to fear what I never sus- 
pected before — that I am a dishonest steward.” 

Esther was in the drawing-room alone the next day 
when Mr. Heartly was announced. He had visited his 
father and mother the week before, and Esther had many 
enquiries to make concerning her friends in that town. 
They had a long talk about old times. 

Then Esther said, “I have been curious to hear about 
the other event of that evening which you said you would 
tell me.” 

“As I entered the street where I was visiting I saw a 


or Esther's opportunities. 


167 


young man coming slowly towards me. As he ap- 
proached he raised his head and I saw who it was. Did 
you notice a pale, slender young man who came out of 
the saloon with the others, and said something about 
muscular Christianity ?” 

“Yes, he was better dressed than the rest and looked 
like a gentleman.” 

“Well, this was he. He turned as I reached him and 
walked with me, and we had quite a conversation before 
we parted. I was much pleased with his frank, boyish 
manner.” 

As Esther’s visitor gave the conversation which fol- 
lowed in a rather condensed form, we will give the dia- 
logue entire. 

“I think you are Mr. Heartly.” 

“I am.” 

“I live in the next house to the Rev. Dr. Stanley. Mrs. 
Stanley told Mother, yesterday, that her husband was 
delighted, for he expected a visitor, the Rev. John 
Heartly, and she said so much in your praise that I felt 
curious to see you. I said to myself, ‘He is a minister, 
so I suppose he is a pale, intellectual-looking man.’ 
Nevertheless, I wanted to see you, so before the first 
train was due I stationed myself on the veranda with a 
book and saw you arrive, met at the door and welcomed 
by name. I have been waiting for you, for I want to ask 
you what makes you so strong ?” 


168 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“Not strong drink.” 

“Oh, I suppose you saw me come out of the saloon, but 
really, I don’t go there to drink. I drink very little; I 
do not care for it. I go there to see the fun, to see the 
men lift weights and such things. Some men that go 
there are very strong. Ever since I can remember I have 
admired strength, perhaps because I am so weak myself. 
And then I get so tired of study. You see, my folks want 
me to go to college, and I have to study pretty hard. I 
used to get my lessons very easily and I rather liked to 
study, but the last two years I get so unutterably weary 
when I have studied a little that I can’t bear it, and have 
to go somewhere to change the scene.” 

“You are growing too fast, and take too little air and 
exercise. But, my young friend, you will not grow 
stronger by visiting that saloon. The drink is bad for a 
growing young man, and the close air and excitement is 
worse. You ask me why I am so strong : I was brought 
up on a farm, and did a great deal of out-door work. I 
ploughed, planted, hoed and mowed, walked, ran, 
climbed trees and hills, developing my muscles, breathed 
plenty of fresh air and strengthened my lungs.” 

“Father won’t let me work. If I try to dig in the gar- 
den, he tells me to stop. He hires a gardener to do that.” 

“When do you expect to go to college ?” 

“Next year, I suppose.” 

“Then I should advise you to take long walks, visit 


or Esther's opportunities. 


169 


some of the beautiful places around here, take your books 
and study your lessons in the woods, where you will have 
plenty of good air.” 

“Yes, I might do that, but the rainy days ! they are 
the most unendurable ?” 

“You have a barn, I see” — they had stopped in front 
of the house — “can’t you rig up a horizontal bar and one 
or two such things for practice ? When you are at col- 
lege you will be expected to spend a certain amount of 
time in the gymnasium, and if you improve it, it will be 
a great benefit to you. I knew several young men who 
were no stronger than you are when they entered, but at 
the end of the four years were among the strongest.” 

“I am so glad you came to town, you have given me 
some courage. If you could show me about fixing those 
things in the barn.” 

“I shall leave town early in the morning, but I will 
send you written directions, when I get home, and I hope 
you will write to me how you succeed.” 

When Mr. Heartly had given some account of the 
above conversation he added, “He did write in about 
two weeks, that he had followed my advice and imagined 
that he already felt better. When he found that he was 
getting tired and nervous over his lessons, he left them 
for a walk or the barn, and soon came back rested and 
ready to study. Since then we have kept up quite a lively 
correspondence. He thinks I am qualified to give him 


170 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


advice on many things, for the reason, as he expresses it, 
‘You have been there so lately yourself.’ I have been 
wishing for some time that I could tell you about 
this, for I thought you would be pleased to know that 
your disagreeable encounter was likely to be the means 
of the physical, mental and, I hope, the spiritual regen- 
eration of a young man, one who, I think, has a fair 
amount of talent and who will, if started right, do good 
work in the world. It is also such an excellent com- 
mentary on the text, ‘Surely the wrath of man shall 
praise Thee, and the remainder of wrath Thou shalt re- 
strain.’ ” 

“And the instrument in this case was your strong 
right arm,” said Esther, smiling. 

As he rose to leave, Mrs. Selby came hastily in, and, 
after being introduced, said, “You are not going, are 
you? I came in from my ride just as I was, for my 
husband wished me to persuade you to stay until his re- 
turn, as he is anxious to have a talk with you. I shall be 
much pleased if you will dine with us.” 

Mr. Heartly thanked her for the invitation and re- 
sumed his seat, evidently pleased to continue his con- 
versation with Miss Selby. 

When Arthur came home, he brought Edwin Dale to 
dine with them. As they entered the drawing-room 
Esther introduced her nephew, then turned to Edwin, 
but Mr. Heartly stepped quickly forward wffh out- 


or Esther's opportunities. 


171 


stretched hand, saying, “Why, Edwin Dale, this is a 
pleasant surprise !” 

The young man returned the greeting warmly, but 
seemed a little embarrassed. 

When they were all seated, Mr. Heartly said, laughing, 
“Edwin, I think you must have been very pleasantly 
employed since you came here, for you have not written 
to me from this town.” 

Edwin blushed and said something about his friends 
being very kind and doing all they could to amuse him. 

Then Mr. Heartly said to Arthur, “Your friend is a 
very good correspondent, and quite a number of letters 
pass between us in a year.” 

“Oh ! you can’t think,” said Edwin, with much emo- 
tion, “what his letters have been and are to me. He is 
my better conscience, and if I ever make anything worth 
while, it will be because I follow his advice.” 

Turning to Miss Selby, he said, “I have a confession 
to make. The first evening I called here I recognized 
you, but did not say so, for I was not proud of the com- 
pany in which you saw me last. I” — 

“You need not explain,” said Mr. Heartly. “Miss 
Selby will understand that the young man who ex- 
claimed ‘Muscular Christianity !’ is now my friend.” 

“Thank you ! Thank you !” Edwin said, with a re- 
lieved expression, and, Annie entering the room, he soon 
recovered his cheerfulness. 


172 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


During that week John Heartly engaged to preach 
four Sundays at the West Church, as the pastor was 
threatened with a serious throat difficulty and it was 
thought to be necessary that he should have at least four 
weeks of complete rest. He explained to the Selbys that 
he was taking a vacation, and had intended to spend the 
most of it at the Heartly farm, but as it was only ten 
miles by rail, he could go back and forth quite easily. 

During those four weeks he called quite often at Mr. 
Selby’s house, although he did not have any more inter- 
esting young men to tell about. Mr. Selby had several 
long talks with him, and on the fourth Sunday he stood 
up before the great congregation and joyfully confessed 
himself a servant of the Divine Master. 0 Mother, so 
long in Heaven ! 0 Mother, who prayed and longed so 
many years for this, but at last rested serenely on the 
promise of a covenant-keeping God, sure that her loved 
ones would, in His own good time, be safely gathered in ! 
Do you see his manly head bowed in reverence ? Do you 
see the happy light in his eyes as he takes upon himself 
those holy vows ? 


OR ESTHER S OPPORTUNITIES. 


173 


CHAPTER XXII. 

At the end of the four weeks, Esther accompanied 
her friend J ohn when he went to spend the last part of 
his vacation with his parents. 

They were in the orchard, she sitting in the old swing, 
he leaning against the tree, when she said, suddenly, 
“J ohn, I wish you would tell me how you knew so much 
about women’s work. When I heard your lectures, I 
wondered how you knew about making over dresses and 
threading needles for old aunts.” 

“1 will answer the last first. My mother’s aunt used 
to live with us, and my sister and myself understood it to 
be our duty to thread needles for her whenever she 
wished it. In making over dresses, my part was often 
to rip them. Sometimes I would have much preferred to 
play, and I used to think it was a waste of time, when a 
garment was already made, to rip it and make it up 
again. I remember one day when Mother was finishing 
one. With boyish egotism I remonstrated, and said, 
‘Mother, did you buy that trimming to put on that 


174 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


dress?’ ‘Yes/ ‘How much did you pay for it?’ She 
mentioned the amount. ‘You could have bought a calico 
dress like the one you have on for that, couldn’t you?’ 
‘Perhaps so.’ ‘Now, I think it would have been better 
to have got the calico and have a new dress, don’t you ?’ 
‘Your sister will probably wear this to-morrow when 
she goes to Boston. When she has it on we can decide 
better.’ Next day she called me in, and there stood my 
sister, looking as stylish as the Governor’s daughter, and 
as pretty as a pink. My mother stood beside her with 
her calico wrapper on, and, as I came in, she said, ‘What 
do you think?’ I did not like to own that I had judged 
foolishly, so I asked her why she put on the trimming. 
‘It would have done very well without it.’ She answered 
that the trimming gave it the air of style and finish and, 
besides, was necessary to cover some piecing. I never 
volunteered my opinion on that subject again. 

“Another reason why I knew was, I kept my eyes open. 
Esther, that swing has lasted a long while !” He said 
“Esther” softly, lingeringly, as though he liked the 
word. 

“You made it last a long time,” she said, laughing. 

After a pause, looking up, she said, “John, why have 
you not married in all these years ?” 

“Perhaps I was too busy, but I think I was waiting 
for you, as I told you last week. But, indeed, I have 
always been rather busy, yet, whenever I have thought 


or Esther's opportunities. 


175 


on the subject, I have felt a sort of joyful expectation 
that my Father would, just as soon as He thought best, 
send to me or send me to my other self. And I felt sure 
that we should recognize each other, that there would be 
no mistake. My patient trust has been abundantly re- 
warded, Esther. This morning Mother gave me this 
slip, cut from a paper, saying, ‘I have kept this ever 
since I was a girl, perhaps it will be appropriate for you 
now.’ I will read some of it to you, Esther, shall I ? 

“ ‘Mary, how beautiful the faith which holds matches 
are made above, that human souls are formed in pairs, 
and start from Heaven together! Earth drives them 
asunder, and through life they roam, tired of the lone- 
some way until, perchance, kind Heaven provides another 
meeting. How the sweet surprise wakes up their hearts 
to rapture, arms their eyes with harmless lightnings 
and fills the earth with melody and beauty ! Each hath 

found what the heart longed for 

Hand in hand through life they go, share each other's 
joy or woe, together sink into the silent tomb, and, 
borne on angel wings, together seek their home.' " 

“That is pretty, but, John, that about human souls 
being formed in pairs cannot be true in our case, for you 
came to earth two years before I did.” 

“That can be explained. When you approached the 
earth, the coarseness and wickedness which you saw upon 
it shocked your pure spirit and, affrighted, it flew back to 


176 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


its native sky to gain a little more strength and receive 
a white and shining armor that should render it in- 
vincible to all the fiery darts of evil.” 

“Why, John, I did not know that you were a poet.” 
But whether he talked poetry or prose, she listened with 
a sweet content. 


Active preparations for Thanksgiving were in prog- 
ress at the Heartly farm. Mrs. Heartly was in the 
kitchen, preparing mince-meat for pies, when her friend 
Mrs. Weston came in and, seating herself by the table, 
took a knife and pared apples while she talked. 

“So you expect John and his wife to spend Thanks- 
giving with you?” 

“Yes; we do,” and there was a joyful ring to the 
mother’s voice as she answered. 

“I suppose that you were pleased to have him marry 
Miss Selby?” 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“I should think you would be ! I think she is almost 
as good as Tim’s wife — You don’t mind if I think that 
Tim’s wife is the best, do you ?” 

“Oh, no, indeed!” with a smile. 

“I would not have you think for a moment that I have 
forgotten what Miss Selby did for us. I shall pray for 
her happiness every day of my life. Will you please tell 
her so? Well, there ! I most forgot what I came for. I 


or Esther's opportunities. 


177 


found that I was most out of cinnamon when I got ready 
to mix my mince, so I came to borrow a little.” Then, 
hesitatingly, with a soft flush on her sweet old face, 
“Don’t you think Tim’s boy would like it if I made some 
saucer pies for him ? I used to make them for Tim.” 

“I’ll warrant he will be pleased.” 

“I think I will make a mince one to-day, and next 
week, when I make the other pies. I’ll make an apple, a 
squash, and a cranberry one,” and her face was beaming. 

“Oh ! these indulgent grandmothers,” said Mrs. 
Heartly, laughing. “Why, the little fellow will feel 
rich — until he has eaten them up.” 

“Well, I shall make them just for that identical pur- 
pose.” 

The next caller was Mrs. Johnson — “she that was 
Jane Morse,” as the country folks say. 

She came in the afternoon. After taking off her 
quilted hood and warm shawl, she seated herself and, 
taking some sewing from her bag, settled down for a 
chat. “So John is going to bring his wife home to 
Thanksgiving. You went to the wedding, I suppose. 
Her brother’s folks are very stylish, aren’t they ?” 

“Well, they have everything nice and don’t seem to 
want for money; as to style — yes, I suppose they are 
stylish.” 

“Esther is rich, isn’t she?” 

“Yes, I suppose so, but that is the very smallest item 
of her value in our eyes.” 


178 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“I know she is just as good as she can be, and I am 
glad she is rich. Such folks as John and his wife are 
just the ones to have money. They will make a good 
use of it.” 

“I think they will.” 

“It was real good of her to invite me to the wedding. 
I was so sorry that I could not go, but Mother was so 
much worse that week I could not leave her. You can’t 
think how puzzled I was about a present for her. I knew 
she had so much money she could buy anything she 
wanted. Then I thought she would think more of some- 
thing I made myself. All at once it popped into my 
head, ‘Why not finish that silk quilt for her?’ You see, 
I had been working on that quilt off and on for years, 
and calculated if I ever got it done to put it on the spare 
chamber bed. So I said to Hiram, ‘What is the use of a 
silk quilt in a farmhouse ?’ and he laughed and said, ‘A 
handsome white one will do just as well.’ ” 

“I think it was quite self-sacrificing in you to give 
what you worked on so long.” 

“Hot a bit of it. I was delighted to give it to her. 
Did she say anything about the square in the center?” 

“Yes, she recognized it as a piece of your wedding 
dress.” 

“I never shall forget what a relief it was to me, having 
her here to drape that overskirt. Well ! I was going to 
sa} r , 1 learned to work Kensington on purpose to make 
those forget-me-nots in that square.” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


179 


“Esther said it was a very pretty thought, but she told 
me to tell you she did not need it to make her remember 
you” 

“I am sure I am pleased with that message. But I 
was going to say, after I had learned, I couldn’t stop 
with just that bunch, but kept right on, and worked all 
those other flowers.” 

“Esther said you did them beautifully. She showed 
me an elegant silver tea service, one of her wedding 
presents, and said she should prize the quilt more than 
that, for the quilt represented so many hours’ work per- 
formed by loving hands.” 

“I am so glad she was pleased,” and she brushed away 
a tear, while her face flushed with pleasure. After a 
pause, “Just to think, three years ago I expected to be 
an old maid, and when Esther came to see me, I told her 
I was glad she was not married, for misery loved com- 
pany, and now we are both married women,” and she 
laughed merrily. 

“So they have been travelling in the West most a 
month. Now, I told Hiram, when we got our invita- 
tions to the wedding, 'Most likely they will go to Europe 
on a wedding tour.’ The last time I saw her she was 
saying that she had always wanted to visit the Old 
World, but there had always been something to keep 
her at home, so I felt sure she would go now.” 

“Perhaps they will go next year. They wanted to 


180 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


spend Thanksgiving with us this year, and they knew 
we would be disappointed if they did not come — besides, 
they wanted to see something of the grand and beautiful 
scenes of our own country before they went for the same 
purpose to a foreign land. Esther was telling me of an 
acquaintance of hers who went to Europe last year. She 
was looking at a waterfall, somewhere — I forget where. 
An English woman was standing beside her, and several 
other foreigners near by, when the English woman said, 
‘I suppose you are thinking of your Niagara and this 
seems hardly worth looking at? ? And then she had to 
acknowledge that she had never seen Niagara Falls. She 
said she never felt so foolish before in her life.” 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


181 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Perhaps my readers would like to hear something more 
about Josie and his mother. Esther sowed by all waters, 
but she could very seldom watch the growth, budding and 
blossoming, and not often did she ever hear of the full 
fruitage. 

Her friend moved in a short time from Blueville, so 
she did not visit that town as she intended, and did not 
see the Grants again for several years, but, reader, we 
are privileged, and can follow Mrs. Grant and her boy 
to her new old home. 

It is getting almost dark in the low-ceiled rooms of 
the farmhouse. Mrs. Grant has swept, dusted and lov- 
ingly arranged the dear familiar furniture. Each piece 
seems like an old friend. She has seated herself in her 
father's old chair, and, with her head on its worn arm, 
has wept softly. She has made up her bed on the tail- 
posted bedstead that her mother used to sleep on, and 
tenderly smoothed the coverlet that her mother's young 
hands wove before she became a bride. She has ar- 


182 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


ranged her few dishes and tins on the old dresser, almost 
with the feeling that it was only yesterday that she was 
doing the same thing. She has kindled a fire on the 
familiar hearth, not for warmth, ostensibly to make some 
tea, bnt really to cheer herself once more with the sight 
of the ruddy blaze. Her work has not progressed as 
well as it would have done had she not paused so often 
to gaze out of window or door at the fields, hills, trees and 
flowers that she loves so well. 

Now she is tired, more by her emotions than her work, 
and thinks she will retire for the night. She goes to the 
door and calls, “Josie !” No response. “Josie!” No 
answer. Then she thinks of the barn, and smiles as she 
remembers that when she was a child she seldom heard 
a call from the house when she was at the barn. Barns 
are so interesting to children. 

When she entered the barn, sure enough, there was 
Josie, at the very top, looking in at some young doves. 

Forgetting how often she had climbed to that very 
place, she called out in alarm, “Josie! Josie! do come 
down, you will break your neck !” 

“I should have to come down pretty hard to do that/’ 
was the rather saucy reply, for he had not yet learned to 
be perfectly respectful even to his mother. However, 
he obeyed and came down, full as quickly as a due regard 
for the safety of the member mentioned would warrant. 

Josie was tired, he had not been still a moment all 


or Esther's opportunities. 


183 


day. I was going to say, except while eating, but then 
he was very busy with hands and teeth ; besides helping 
his mother, he had pretty thoroughly explored the farm, 
to say nothing of the woods near by, and was full ready 
to sleep. 

Mrs. Grant thought a due regard for the terms of her 
contract required her to go in and see if the old folks 
needed anything before she retired. The old lady had 
been in to see her several times during the day, evidently 
pleased to have seme one in the house to see and care for. 
Once she brought in a fresh pie, she had just baked. 
Once a new tin, which she placed on the dresser, saying, 
“The last time the tinman came round, I saw them, and 
thought they were such pretty shapes, I bought two, but 
I really need but one.” Then she brought some cream 
for her tea and some new milk for Josie. 

When Mrs. Grant, followed slowly by Josie (he was 
half-asleep), entered their neighbors’ room, they were 
sitting by a table on which burned a shaded lamp. In 
front of Mr. Jennings was an open Bible. He was not 
reading, but was talking in an earnest voice to his wife. 

He smiled a welcome, saying, “I was just remarking 
to my wife, that I thought it would be so pleasant if you 
would have family prayers with us. There are only two 
old folks here now, but if you would join us, it would 
seem like old times, when we had our children around us. 
Would you like it?” 


184 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


With a low, “Yes, I thank you,” she sat down, and 
motioned for Josie to do the same. 

He obeyed rather slowly, and then did not seem to 
know what to do with his hands, feet, or even head. 

Mr. Jennings read a short chapter, then such a prayer 
as that man, old in years, but a very child at heart, 
poured into the ear of his Father ! — a prayer that em- 
braced in its loving petitions the new members of their 
circle as though they were, in very truth, his children. 

When he ended, Mrs. Grant was sobbing. Instantly 
the old lady’s arms were around her, the sweet old voice 
was saying, as she petted her in a motherly way, “What 
is the trouble, dear child ?” 

“Oh ! it makes me think of Father and old times.” 

“Let us be father and mother to you as much as we 
can.” 

“May your Heavenly Father bless you, my child,” said 
the old man, as he laid his hand on her head. 

And somehow she felt such comfort and rest as she 
had not known for years. 

Before this Josie had vanished, and when she went to 
his room he was fast asleep. 

The weeks passed smoothly on. She had plenty of 
work. Josie was employed by Josiah Johnson. 

“Si,” as they all called him, had, soon after Sally’s 
arrival, seized a chance he had to see Sally without being 
seen himself. The thin, pale, sad, hollow-eyed, slow- 


or Esther's opportunities. 


185 


moving woman he hardly knew, and he said to himself, 
“It can’t be that is Sally Barstow.” 

Then, for months, time moved on calmly, if unevent- 
fully. 

But at last there came a night when the bell which 
hung over Sally’s bed — an arrangement by which the 
old folks could summon her at any hour — rang loudly. 

She was soon in their room using prompt and wise 
means for the relief of Mr. Jennings, who, she found, 
was very ill. 

She soon decided to send for a doctor, but the nearest 
one lived two miles from the farm. 

She roused Josie, who said that he would ask Mr. 
Johnson to take one of his horses and bring the doctor. 

He was dressed and out of the house in an incredibly 
short time, for he dearly loved “Grandpa,” as he called 
him. 

Mr. Johnson, when he brought the doctor, came into 
the house with him, saw that they needed his help, and 
stayed. 

The doctor ordered a warm bath; he helped Sally to 
prepare it, then his strong arms lifted the old man easily 
and carefully from bed to bath, from bath back to bed 
again. His large hands patiently and tenderly rubbed 
and chafed until relief came. 

But his hands being so busy did not keep him from 
using his eyes, and he used them chiefly to watch Sally 


186 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


as she came and went, quickly, but softly, bringing what 
they needed, almost before they knew they needed it, 
and he saw how much the months had altered her. The 
fresh, pure air of her native town, the active employ- 
ment and, most of all, the absence of worry, had rounded 
out her form, brought color to her cheeks, brightness to 
her eyes and elasticity to her step — in short, had brought 
back the Sally he had known, but little altered, and that 
for the better, for the years of care and trouble had given 
to her dignity and sweetness in place of the old-time 
careless gaiety. 

After the doctor had pronounced the patient out of 
danger he said, “Some one must sit by him the rest of the 
night and give him, promptly, once an hour, the medi- 
cine I shall leave,” adding “I think, with the exception 
of a little weakness, he will be all right in the morning.” 

When he had gone, J osiah sent the women to bed, say- 
ing that he would take care of the patient until morning. 

When Sally had arranged everything for their con- 
venience she passed her arm round the old lady’s waist 
and helped her upstairs to her own room. 

Then Josiah sat and thought. When Sally married, 
he had allowed a plant of bitterness to root itself in his 
heart, and when, just after her return, he saw how she 
had faded, he said to himself, almost savagely, “Served 
her right ! She ought to suffer !” But to-night, as he 
saw how lovable she was, the old love, which was not 
dead, only asleep, awoke again. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


187 


He took a small book from his pocket and tried to 
read, but Sally's bright face looked over the top at him. 
He put it down, impatiently, and then he seemed to 
hear her light step behind him, then to see the soft folds 
of her dress as she went out of the room, tenderly sup- 
porting her aged friend. 

So, for three days, his bitter sense of injury fought 
with his awakened love. Love conquered, as it generally 
does. 

On the afternoon of the third day he found himself 
again in the old familiar room. He had knocked. Ho 
one answering, and the door being open, he had walked 
in and seated himself in the chair that was his favorite 
when he used to visit there so often. 

He sat there ten or fifteen minutes, thinking sweet and 
bitter thoughts. Then the kitchen door opened, and 
Sally came in, singing a gay song he had often heard her 
sing in her girlish days. Time seemed to have stood 
still and all the bitter years to be but a dream. 

He started to his feet, held out both hands, and said, 
“Sally!” 

She stopped just inside the door in surprise and 
blushed rosy red. But she soon recovered her self-pos- 
session, bowed, and said, calmly, “Good afternoon, Mr. 
J ohnson.” 

Mr. Johnson ! The years were, after all, no dream. 

Of course her caller was much embarrassed ; he 


188 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


coughed, looked out of the window, said, “It is a fine 
day. That tree we planted has grown very large” 

This involuntary reference to the past caused him to 
feel more embarrassed than before. 

At last he cleared his voice, turned from the window, 
and said, “Mrs. Grant, I thought I would get Joseph a 
new suit of clothes, and called to ask you what color 
would be best.” 

“I am not particular,” was the answer. “What do you 
think of dark blue ?” A pause. 

“Perhaps it would be best to let him decide, as he is 
to wear them.” 

“You are very kind, I am sure.” Another pause. 

It was Sally’s turn to be embarrassed, but as he arose 
to go she said, quickly, “Josiah, I have wanted for a long 
while to ask you to forgive me for treating you so 
badly.” 

“Well,” was the hesitating answer, “I don’t know as 
you could help it. I suppose you loved him best, but,” 
and there was a choking sound in his voice, “it did hurt 
me so,” and he dropped into a chair and covered his face 
with his hands. 

Sally went softly to him, and laid her hand timidly on 
his bowed head, saying, “I am so sorry you cared so 
much.” 

“Are you sorry that I care now” — and he took her 
hand and looked up in her face — “that I never would 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


189 


have married any other woman, that I never will marry 
any other ? Are you so sorry that you will make it up to 
me now ?” 

“Oh ! Josiah, I am afraid that I cannot love you as 
you deserve, for I did love him best, but if you think I 
can be a comfort or help to you” — 

“You will marry me ? Say that you will, Sally !” 

“Oh! I don’t know; I can’t tell now ; I want time to 
think.” 

“Well,” said he, cheerfully, “I will come again to- 
morrow,” and he went away with a light step. 

He was pretty sure what the answer would be, and he 
was right, for they were married in about a month. 


190 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

When Sally had decided to move to another house, 
she informed Mrs. Jennings, and begged her to take in 
her place a woman who used to live in the house with 
her in Wetura. She was an English woman, the daugh- 
ter of a tradesman. The younger son of a nobleman had 
persuaded her to marry him, for which heinous crime he 
was turned out of his father’s house. As he had more 
pride than manliness or courage, he resolved to fly to 
America, far from those who despised him. His wife 
was well-educated, and received from her father quite a 
large dower. Her money supported him in idleness and 
discontent awhile, then in idleness and dissipation 
awhile longer, until his excesses killed him. Her father 
had died. Her only brother, who had inherited the 
property, did not answer her letters, and she was left 
with little money in a strange land, and friendless until 
she met Sally Grant. Then she received sympathy and 
encouragement, all that Sally had to give. She had one 
little girl, a pale lily bud of a child, that seemed likely 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


191 


to wither before it blossomed, for want of air and sun- 
shine. She was naturally so refined and sensitive that 
she shrank from the rude children of the neighborhood, 
and kept closely at her mother’s side, never going out 
without her. Only Josie could win her to talk or sing, 
for he never used bad words in her presence. Her 
mother had brought quite a number of books from her 
old home, some of them of little money value, but valued 
by her for the associations connected with them. Some 
of them were school books, and Ruthie could soon, with 
her mother’s help, understand the contents of many of 
them. By her means Josie was induced to spend many 
hours over the books, and in her pure companionship, 
which would otherwise have been spent in worse than 
idleness in the streets. When the Grants went to Blue- 
ville, it was a grief to both families to part, and they 
promised each other to write often. By this means Mrs. 
Grant learned that Mrs. Seymour’s money was nearly 
all spent, and she had been employed for some time in 
sewing for ladies to whom Miss Selby had recommended 
her; that Miss Selby had helped her in various ways; 
also that Ruthie was pining and the doctor said she 
must have more air and exercise or she would die. 

Mrs. Jennings was very much interested in Sally’s ac- 
count of mother and child and gladly wrote to her 
nephew for his consent. 

When the answer came, Sally sent money to her 


192 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


friends to pay their car-fare, thus passing along with 
one hand a part of what she had received with the other 
from Miss Selby, and she had the pleasure of assisting 
at another happy flitting. 

Who can estimate what that country home was to the 
mother and child, compelled to live in those close, stifling 
rooms, with coarseness, noise and dirt around them, 
longing for room, air, sunshine, refinement and beauty. 
It was like transplanting the lily from a cold, rocky 
shore to a fertile spot in Paradise. 

And the lily blossomed into wondrous beauty. 

For several years Josie wrote to Miss Selby whenever 
anything happened that he thought was important — 
about his mother’s marriage, and how kind his new 
father was to him, the arrival of Ruthie and her mother. 

At one time he wrote: “Father says I may go to the 
High School if I want to, and I mean to go, for I had 
rather study than hoe ’taters. I heard Father tell Mother 
that he meant to treat me just as he would an own son, 
but I think if I was his own son, he would give me a 
licking pretty often, which he doesn’t now.” 

Four years later : “I graduated from the High School 
this week. My part was a Latin essay. The teacher 
appointed it, but I think it absurd, for not more than 
five or six understood it.” 

Three months later : “I am going to college. Father 
said, ‘You never will make a farmer. You always want 


or Esther's opportunities. 


193 


to hurry up the horses so when you plough that the 
plough goes jumpty-jump and doesn’t go half deep 
enough. You will make a good lawyer, for you can find 
mischief enough to do, all in the way of business/ and he 
laughed so jolly. He isn’t nearly as silent as he used to 
be. Tell Miss Annie I have lots of good clothes now, 
but I have never had a suit that I liked so well as the one 
she gave me.” 

Four years later Esther and Annie received invita- 
tions to attend his commencement. Josie was to be the 
valedictorian of his class. 

After the exercises, he invited them and several other 
intimate friends to an elegant little supper. Evidently 
his new father did treat him as well as an own son. 

When he had his first client he wrote to her, but, after 
that, grown less egotistic, he did not write for years, but 
occasionally a fine engraving, rare book or art gem came 
to her, addressed by his hand, showing that he had not 
forgotten her. 

Thirteen years after Josie went to Blueville he com- 
menced practicing law in New York. Two years after- 
ward, Esther received an invitation to his wedding. He 
married Ruth Seymour, the sweet girl who had been the 
refining influence of his childhood, the safeguard and 
inspiration of his youth, and whose love was the crown- 
ing glory of his manhood. 

Esther thoroughly enjoyed her visit at Blueville. 


194 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


Sally Johnson said to her, “I am so pleased and proud 
to have you and your husband here. I never was so 
proud of anything but once before, that was when Josie 
graduated from college.” 

“What ! not when you were married !” said some one, 
laughing. 

“No; I was not so proud then as happy,” with a blush. 

Three years more, and Esther and her husband were 
in New York, in answer to an urgent request from Annie, 
who was in great trouble. The greater part of her hus- 
band’s income was derived from an estate left to him by 
his father. When his father bought it, it consisted of a 
large amount of land in a good location, and an old 
building. This he took down, and built several nice 
blocks of houses to let. No one doubted that Mr. Dale 
bought and paid for the estate, but a man had lately 
laid claim to it, stating that the one who sold it to Mr. 
Dale had no right to sell it; that he, the claimant, as 
heir to the real owner, should try his best to recover it. 

Annie’s husband had engaged a celebrated lawyer on 
his side, and the case was soon to be tried, when the 
lawyer had suddenly died, and at a time, too, when Mr. 
Dale was ill with a fever and not able to attend to any 
business. 

Their first care was to engage another lawyer. 

Esther’s first thought was Joseph Grant. She had 
frequently seen in the papers, during the five years he 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


195 


had practiced in New York, notices of the successful 
issue of difficult cases which he had conducted. 

So they called on a merchant, a friend of her hus- 
band’s, and stated the case to him, at the same time ask- 
ing what he knew about the young lawyer Grant. 

He told them to secure him if they could, adding, “He 
is a very talented young man; he is nearly always suc- 
cessful, for he puts his whole soul into his work, and 
has also for a partner an old lawyer who possesses great 
knowledge of law, and vast experience. 

“Do you know,” said he, “that they call Grant the 
‘poor man’s lawyer’ ? I suppose the reason for the name 
is, that he has so many poor clients and nearly always 
gains their cases. It is thought that when he loses a 
case he makes no charge.” 

They were received at Grant’s office with every demon- 
stration of pleasure. 

When they had told their errand, he said it would give 
him pleasure to do his best for Miss Annie. 

When they asked what his retaining fee would be he 
said decidedly, “Nothing.” 

“We know,” said Esther, “that you are called the ‘poor 
man’s lawyer,’ but we are not ready to put ourselves in 
that list.” 

“Will you be so kind as to allow me to have my way 
in this ?” 

“Oh, certainly,” was the answer, “but we should like 


196 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


to know why you are so ready to have poor men for cli- 
ents. We have even heard that, when business pressed, 
you have refused a rich client for the sake of a poor one.” 

“Oh !” said he, laughing, “that is my way of giving 
away suits of clothes and railroad tickets.” 

When Esther shook hands with him as she bade him 
good-bye, there were tears in her eyes as she said, “I 
shall tell Annie that the small seed we planted years ago 
has grown and ripened into a wonderful harvest even a 
thousand fold !” 

In this case it was certainly true that “He put his 
whole soul into it.” He never rested until he had 
searched out all the truth, and that truth proved in court 
placed the estate undoubtedly in Mr. Dale’s possession. 

When Annie, with a heart overflowing with gratitude, 
said, “I do not know how to thank you enough, you do 
not know what it was to me when my husband, with 
feverish anxiety, asked about the business, to be able to 
assure him that it was in good hands. And now when 
he is so weak that a little thing might cause a relapse, 
that I can tell him it is decided in his favor.” 

Then, as she handed Josie a liberal sum as payment 
for his services, he put it gently back, saying, “Do you 
remember a message I sent you shortly after I went to 
Blueville ?” 

“I don’t remember that you sent me a message, but I 
remember that I was much pleased with the letter, for 
Aunt Esther let me read it.” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


197 


“I can tell you what it was : after speaking about that 
suit you gave me, I said, ‘When I am a man I shall be 
much disappointed if Miss Annie will not let me give 
her something that will be worth more than her present 
to me/ Do you think this suit is worth more ?” 

“Of course, they cannot be compared,” she answered. 

“I don’t know about that. It was a great deal to a 
boy !” Then, smiling, “You will not disappoint me !” 

What could she do but thank him again and feel 
grateful forever. 


198 


OUGHT WE TO CAEE 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Josie had been several years married. Grandpa and 
Grandma Jennings had passed from earth, their last 
years cheered by the poor strangers that had been shel- 
tered beneath their roof. They had been loved, tended, 
and cared for by the children of those strangers. Their 
dying testimony was that their last years had been 
blessed with abundant happiness and peace. Fit ending 
for such beautiful and unselfish Christian lives ! 

As Mrs. Seymour felt very unwilling to leave her 
pleasant home, she frequently visited her daughter in 
Hew York, but loved best the old farmhouse that had 
opened its hospitable doors to her in her time of need. 
She loved the trees and flowers on the old farm, and the 
clear, sweet air, that had brought health and bloom to 
her delicate lily blossom. 

So Josie interviewed Mr. Jennings’ nephew. He said, 
“The place does not belong to me. About two years after 
my uncle moved there, I found that it would please him 
very much if I gave him the deed of it. It was many 


or Esther's opportunities. 


199 


years since the old man had owned any real estate, and 
he used to say, rather mournfully, ‘I shall have nothing 
to leave to my daughter. I have always been industrious, 
but I fear I have not been shrewd, or I should have ac- 
cumulated something/ The dear old man ! shrewdness 
was not one of his good qualities, but he was a saint! 
So his next birthday I gave him the deed, and when he 
refused it, I told him he would have had more than that 
if his dishonest partner had not stolen it from him. ‘But 
that is no reason why you should give it to me/ he said. 
‘Yes, it is/ I answered, ‘for Providence knew that you 
deserved it, for you had earned it, and gave me more 
than I needed, so that I could make it up to you/ He 
looked puzzled, then his face cleared, and, raising his 
eyes to Heaven, he said, reverently, ‘Every good and per- 
fect gift cometh from God, and I thank Him/ Then, 
grasping my hand, ‘And I thank you, His blessed in- 
strument; may your old age be as happy as you have 
made mine/ ” And the prosperous man of the world 
was not ashamed to wipe the tears that dimmed his eyes 
at the remembrance. 

He then went on to say that his uncle had left, besides 
a will, written instructions about the house. He thought 
that very likely his daughter would like to sell the farm, 
as her husband was well located in the West, but until 
she did sell, he wanted Mrs. Seymour to occupy the 
house and garden without paying rent, suggesting that 


200 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


the farm might perhaps he let to Mr. J ohnson, who had 
cultivated it for several years, for enough to pay the 
taxes. 

“I have written to his daughter, and received an 
answer. She says, ‘I want all my father’s instructions 
followed. I do not wish to sell the place until I have 
visited it. I want very much to see the house and all the 
surroundings of the home, which he has described to me, 
and to get acquainted with the kind friends who have 
made his life so happy. I don’t know that I shall be able 
to visit it this summer, perhaps I may the summer after.’ 
She also wrote that if some one of those who had been so 
kind to him wished to buy it, she would sell for much 
less than to a stranger, for in that case she might hope to 
visit the farm occasionally.” 

At the conclusion of the interview he agreed to give 
Mrs. Seymour the first chance to buy the place when 
the owner concluded to sell. 

This affair being satisfactorily arranged, Mrs. Sey- 
mour wrote to Mrs. Frank Selby. 

That languid lady had been aroused from her selfish 
indifference to all outside her own family circle, partly 
by Esther’s example and partly by the youthful enthusi- 
asm of Annie, so that when Esther married and left 
town for her beautiful residence by the Hudson, she will- 
ingly promised to look after those that Esther lovingly 
called, “My poor.” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


201 


Mrs. Seymour wrote, “I have a strong desire to follow 
Mrs. Grant’s example, and pass the blessing along, the 
blessing of quiet and pure air. I am all alone in the 
house now, so if you know of anyone among your poor 
people it would benefit to come here, please let me know. 
I should, of course, prefer one who would be something 
of a companion, and would work with me to do the very 
little that is to be done in so small a family.” .... 

In answer she received the following communication : 
“I do know of one to whom your offer would be a bless- 
ing, indeed. I met her at the house of a friend, where 
she was acting in the capacity of a night nurse. One 
night, at a critical stage of my friend’s illness, I shared 
the watch with the nurse. In the morning, in answer 
to some of my questions about her choice of employment, 
she gave me the following account of herself. Her 
father was a carpenter, and owned a small place in a 
flourishing town in this State. She taught school, and 
kept house for her father. They both worked hard, and 
laid by quite a sum of money. Two years ago her father 
fell from a house and injured himself severely. He 
would allow no one but his daughter to do anything for 
him, so she gave up her position and devoted herself to 
him. He did not grow better. The doctors of the town 
said they could do no more for him. Then she heard of 
a doctor in Boston, and she wanted to try what his skill 
could do. They sold the place, and, with the small sum 


202 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


left of their savings, moved to that city. After spending 
nearly all their money in paying the great doctor for 
trying experiments on the old man, she called in a justly 
celebrated and honest doctor, who told her kindly that 
her father could not be cured. He might linger for 
months, but he would be much more comfortable if he 
was in a quiet place, for the noises of the city affected his 
head. She told him that her money was almost gone 
and she must try to get something to do to earn more. 
The doctor then took from his pocket a letter, saying, T 
received this yesterday, from a brother doctor a few 
miles from Boston. He says the town needs very much 
a night nurse, and asked me to try to find one and send 
her there. He will guarantee that she will have plenty 
of work. How, I suppose you have learned to take care 
of a sick person by this time ? Your father will probably 
sleep pretty well nights for some time. If you live in 
the house with some one who would attend to him if he 
called, you could leave him very well/ So she came 
about four weeks since. Her father grew rapidly worse. 
She tended him night and day. I was quite ill myself 
and could not go to see her when I heard of his death, 
but I sent what I thought she might need. Last week I 
went to see her. She was thoroughly worn out with hard 
work, loss of sleep, and grief ; she had sold all her furni- 
ture but a bed, stove, one chair, and a very few dishes, to 
pay the doctor's bill and funeral expenses. I think, if 


or Esther's opportunities. 


203 


you will take her for a few weeks, she will be herself 
again, and a very intelligent, honest, pleasant self it is. 
If you like her, you can make whatever arrangement you 
choose afterwards.” 

Mrs. Seymour found Emma Dane to be a very con- 
genial companion, and when, at the end of the year, 
which Emma called her year of rest and refreshment, she 
procured a position in one of the town schools, she asked 
permission to board at the “Refuge,” as she called it, 
Saturdays and Sundays. 

When asked by one of the teachers why she went to the 
farm every week, when it was so much more lively at 
their boarding house in town, she answered, “It is be- 
cause I want a share in the blessing. Mrs. Seymour is 
continually having invalids or children there for a few 
days, and, if I am there two days each week, I can help 
take care of them.” 

“It must be a very desirable job,” was the sneering 
remark. 

“It is work for the Master,” Emma said brightly. 


One hot noon, as Mr. Grant sat in his office, a queer 
client came in. She was tall and spare, with more bone 
than flesh, one that would be called hard-featured, but 
as the lawyer looked in her face, he said to himself, “A 
downright honest woman, with a kindly heart, too, if I 
am not mistaken.” 


204 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


Her first remark was, “They tell me you are the poor 
man’s lawyer. Are you the poor woman’s lawyer, too ?” 

“Yes. What can I do for you?” 

“I want you to tell me if it can be stopped ?” 

“What is it that you want stopped ?” 

“It is a long story, but I’ll tell it as fast as I can. I 
work in a large manufactory, where lots and lots of sew- 
ing machines are run by girls and women. Well, good- 
ness knows ! it is hard enough to work there from seven 
to seven, with one hour for dinner, but awhile ago the 
Boss took a big order to be done at a certain time, and 
last week he found out that he could not get it done with- 
out he run the machines nearly all of every night until the 
order was due. So he told the girls they must work, half 
of them one night, and the other half the next night, until 
three o’clock. Well, there is a girl in my room (I oversee 
the work in one room), a delicate little girl. She isn’t 
strong enough for such work, anyway, but she has to do 
it, for her father is old and her mother is sick always. 
Her father gets a little pay as night watchman, and takes 
care of his wife day-times, and Dora sleeps in the room 
and takes care of her nights. So, you see, she couldn’t 
work nights, but if she didn’t she’d lose her place, so I 
told her I’d run her machine the off -night when I didn’t 
have to oversee. I thought I was strong and could stand 
it, but a week and a half has used me up, and now I don’t 
know what to do. I call it oppression ! It’s worse than 
slavery ! Can’t it be stopped ?” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


205 


Then she stopped for want of breath, and waited for 
an answer. "I don’t think you can stop it. He will say 
he does not compel anyone to work, they can stay or go, 
as they please, but there is a way for you to help yourself 
and the girl you speak of, and rather incommode your 
‘Boss,’ as you call him.” 

“Do tell me how ! for I should like to plague him !” 

“Could you do housework in a common family in the 
country ?” 

“I guess I could ! You see, Father owned a nice little 
house and blacksmith’s shop in the country, and made a 
good living, but a man who used to live in our town 
came back for a visit, and he asked Father why he did 
not sell out and go into a machine shop in the city, he 
could make twice as much money. So Father tried it. 
He did earn more money, but it cost him twice as much 
to live. Such a big rent for little stived-up rooms, and 
no air to speak of, instead of all out-doors to breathe in, 
and pay for every vegetable you had, if you could call 
them vegetables — miserable, withered, wilted things! 
Father and Mother didn’t stand it long, and I had to find 
something to do to earn a living. I used to help Mother 
to do the work, but I could not bear the idea of being a 
servant, so I went into a shop and became a slave. I 
made up my mind to-day that I would try, when I got 
rested, to get a place to do housework here in the city, but 
I should be happy as a clam if I could go where I could 
breathe again. But what shall I do about Dora ?” 


206 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“Can she sew well ?” 

“She can beat anyone in machine or hand sewing.” 

“My wife was saying to-day that she must get a woman 
to sew for her for a month or so, and after that we can 
find others who will employ her. How soon will you 
leave ?” 

“To-night!” she said, emphatically. “We shall be 
paid to-night, and as soon as we get the money I shall 
make my farewell speech.” 

“If you and your friend will call Monday, I will give 
you directions to the places I mentioned.” 

So Mrs. Seymour and her daughter each secured a 
treasure, and two weary workers were greatly benefited. 

Dora, with her well-paid, short day of light work, kind 
friends, and many presents, went singing about her 
work, feeling as though life was a pleasant holiday. One 
would hardly recognize, in the happy blooming maiden, 
the sad pale one who walked so wearily back and forth 
between her home and the great manufactory. Only the 
young trader, who pitied her when she was sad, could 
hardly love her more when she was merry, and, when he 
felt himself well-established in business, made a pleasant 
home for her and her aged parents. 

Joanna proved an efficient helper to Mrs. Seymour, 
especially in her work for Earth’s weary ones, doing 
everything heartily as unto the Lord. One habit she 
had caused much mirth. Almost every hour of the day 


or Esther's opportunities. 


207 


she would go to the door and take in a long breath of the 
fresh air, then, with a satisfied air, exclaim, “I am so 
thankful to breathe again.” 


208 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

In a handsome house in New York, in a well-furnished 
drawing-room, a beautiful woman sat by the window, 
watching in the gathering twilight for some one’s re- 
turn. A manly form was soon discerned, a quick step 
was heard in the hall, and in another moment Mr. Grant, 
his bright face looking more animated even than it 
usually did, was greeting his wife with a loving embrace. 

“Wish me joy, Ruthie ! The great case is decided in 
my client’s favor, consequently a big fee has found its 
way into our pockets — yours and mine, Ruthie. What 
say you ! shall we go on a pleasure trip to England ?” 

“You forget the children, Josie !” 

“No, indeed, I don’t. They will be wild with joy at 
the chance of going to spend the summer with Grandma 
Johnson, and you know that Mother will be so glad to 
have them.” 

“Yes, they would be very happy there.” 

“Then, you know, Mother has wished so many times 
to visit her native town.” 


ob Esther's opportunities. 


209 


“You are so kind and thoughtful, dear husband ! You 
are a good son to mv mother as well as your own.” 

So the little ones were taken to the Johnson farm, 
where plenty and kind hospitality reigned, to be petted 
and cared for all the long bright summer days by their 
gentle grandmother and their young aunt, while their 
parents and “Grandma Se’mer,” as they called her, 
crossed the wide ocean. 

When they landed in England, Mrs. Seymour was so 
eager to see again her childhood’s home that she could 
hardly wait the short time it took the swift-moving trains 
to bear her to the longed-for goal. 

When they arrived at the beautiful town of Brookdale, 
they established themselves comfortably at the well- 
kept inn called the Brookdale Arms. 

When they were well rested, they visited at their leisure 
many places of interest in or near the town. Sometimes 
all three would go together, sometimes the mother alone, 
but oftenest the mother and daughter together, Mrs. 
Seymour leading Ruth to the many loved spots that she 
had often described to her, and Ruth gazing with de- 
lighted interest at one place after another that had been 
the scene of some event in her mother’s past life, while 
she, with flushed face and kindling eyes, described those 
events over again. 

One day they were walking on a pretty road bordered 
by green hedges. As they came to a large tree that made 


210 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


a delightful shade, Mrs. Seymour stopped and said, 
“This is the place where I first spoke to your father. My 
father had given me a pony and such a pretty carriage. 
I had not learned to manage the pony very well, but ven- 
tured to drive a short distance on this quiet road. He 
was behaving splendidly, and I was congratulating my- 
self on my success in driving, when young Mr. Seymour 
dashed along on a large horse with two dogs bounding 
by his side. That was too much for the pony, and he ran. 
In an instant Mr. Seymour had turned, reached my side, 
caught the pony by the bridle and compelled him to stop. 
Of course I thanked him, and he said he must ride home 
with me so as to be sure the pony did not run away with 
me again. After that, when I drove out, he frequently 
overtook me, or if we met, he would turn and ride by my 
side, talking with me. At last, one day he asked me to 
be his wife.” 

She paused here, and looked startled, for, coming to- 
ward them was a man, mounted on a large, powerful 
horse. He rode slowly, and seemed to be in deep thought, 
but, just before he reached them, he raised his eyes and 
gazed, with evident surprise, at Ruth, even reining up 
his horse until he almost stopped. Then, seeming to re- 
cover himself, he raised his hat and rode on. 

“Oh, Ruthie !” said her mother, under her breath, “he 
looked just like your father grown older.” 

“I recognized his resemblance to Father’s portrait; 
perhaps it is his brother,” Ruth responded. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


211 


Mrs. Seymour had resolved when she landed in Eng- 
land to make enquiries for her brother, and, if he was 
living, to visit him. Accordingly, the day that she ar- 
rived in Brookdale she enquired, and found that he was 
living in the house which her father had built a few years 
before her marriage. It was situated about a mile from 
the inn, but she bad postponed her call from day to day. 
She feared, judging from his past conduct, that she 
might not be kindly received, and she shrank from the 
pain which a repulse from him would give her, for, not- 
withstanding his neglect of her, she forgave it all, for she 
possessed a constant heart and loved him with a sister’s 
pure and tender love. 

The day after she had met, as she supposed, her hus- 
band’s brother, she decided to visit her brother. She in- 
tended to go alone, for if she was not received kindly she 
did not want her daughter to witness her sorrow. 

Ruth entered her mother’s room as she was preparing 
to go, and soon ascertained her destination and her rea- 
sons for going alone, but she over-ruled all of them, and 
declared that she must go to take care of her. 

When they approached the place where the mother 
had, when a girl, spent so many happy days, she pointed 
out her favorite walks, drives, a rustic seat under a noble 
tree, and the windows of the room she used to occupy. 

When they enquired for Mr. Danforth, they were 
shown into a well-remembered room. 


212 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


As soon as the servant, saying that he would call his 
master, left, Mrs. Seymour crossed the room hastily and, 
with a murmured “My mother!” stood gazing at a life- 
sized portrait. 

Ruth, seeing her agitation, considerately turned and 
looked out of the window. 

A charming view rewarded her. Green luxuriance 
everywhere, a typical English landscape. 

Mr. Danforth entered the room by a door near the pic- 
ture, so the first thing he saw was a lady standing before 
his mother’s portrait and weeping. 

He started back and exclaimed, “Mother, have you 
come back to life !” 

Then, seeming to understand who it was, he advanced 
with outstretched arms : “Helen, my sister !” 

“Robert !” and his arm was around her, her head on 
his shoulder, as he said, “I am so glad I have found you 
at last !” 

“Then you have tried to find me ?” 

“Yes; but not for several years after you left here, 
and oh ! I am afraid you will not forgive me when I tell 
you all ! When your letter, in which you stated that the 
money that Father gave you was nearly all gone, came, I 
did not answer it, for I said to myself, ‘Perhaps she 
thinks I will give her some more, but she has had her 
share.’ I had two sons, and I wanted all that Father left 
me for them, although I knew in my heart that he would 


or Esther’s opportunities. 


213 


have bidden me supply your wants. But I have been 
dreadfully punished. Both of my boys died in one week, 
and their mother soon after. Then I tried to find you. 
1 wrote to the place where your last letter to me was 
written. I got no answer. I wrote again and again, with 
the same result. I next wrote to a business friend, ask- 
ing him to try to find you. He answered, after several 
weeks, that he had found one person who remembered 
you, who said you left the city, but did not tell anyone, 
as far as she knew, where you were going. After that he 
could find no trace.” 

“I do not wonder,” Mrs. Seymour said, “for Allen was 
so uneasy that we kept moving from place to place as 
long as he lived.” 

“I am afraid I have been impolite,” said Mr. Dan- 
f orth, as he started up ; “you have a lady with you.” 

“Yes, Robert. Ruthie, come here. My daughter, this 
is your Uncle Robert.” 

As he took her hand in his he flushed redly, and said, 
“My dear niece, you probably know that your mother and 
yourself have much to forgive before you can take me into 
your hearts again.” 

“I know, Uncle, that my mother has always kept you 
in her heart. Of course, I could not love you very well 
Avhen I thought you neglected such a sister as my mother 
must have been, but I am ready to forgive and love you 
when my mother bids me do so.” 


214 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


“I ask you. to do so now, for my sake, dear Ruthie.” 

"I obey,” said Ruth, with a little bow. Then, laying 
her hand on her uncle’s arm, she looked up at him de- 
murely, saying, “If you will stoop a little, I will kiss 
you.” 

Her uncle’s face beamed with a bright smile as he 
heartily returned the salute; then saying, “You will 
surely stop to lunch,” he rang for a servant to take their 
wraps. 

After lunch, while Ruth strolled over the beautiful 
grounds, the brother and sister had a long talk about the 
past, present and future. 

When they said they must return, he ordered the car- 
riage and said he should return with them to the inn to 
be presented to his nephew, and bring them back with 
him to stay. 

After Ruth left her husband to accompany her mother, 
he sat at the window, watching the few persons who came 
and went in the village street. He noticed that nearly 
all of those who walked were plainly dressed, evidently 
working men and women. The children were plump, 
rosy-cheeked and healthy-looking. Nearly all the well- 
dressed people were in carriages, good, substantial family 
coaches, that rolled slowly along as though the occupants 
had plenty of time for everything they chose to do. 

He smiled to himself as he contrasted that street life 
with what he had often seen in New England towns — 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


215 


the ladies (the wives and daughters are not called women 
there) dressed in the latest fashion, and even the pale 
little girls, on their way to school, dressed in stylish cos- 
tumes as if for a holiday — but he remembered the boys 
were generally hardy little fellows. 

Then he debated within himself, although the people 
of that English town had fewer incentives to ambition, 
less means of progress and improvement than their New 
England cousins, whether their health, contentment and 
humility were not a sufficient compensation for their 
lack. 


216 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

He was aroused from his speculations by a servant, 
who handed him a card, saying, “Will you see His Lord- 
ship now, sir ?” 

Receiving in answer a curt “Yes,” the servant de- 
parted with alacrity to inform “My Lord ” 

“Lord Brookdale asking to see me !” murmured Josie. 

When the servant had announced, “Lord Brookdale,” 
and was with some fussiness placing the most comfort- 
able chair in the best place for “His Lordship,” the 
American and the English gentlemen greeted each other 
politely, and each saw at a glance that the other was a 
gentleman. 

After they were seated, Lord Brookdale said, “I am 
pleased to welcome an American gentleman to our old 
town, for I feel a personal interest in America, as it may 
be that I have relatives there. It was the hope of obtain- 
ing a trace of them that induced me to call on a stranger.” 

Mr. Grant bowed somewhat coldly, and His Lordship 
went on, “When I was out riding yesterday I met two 


or Esther's opportunities. 


217 


ladies. The younger attracted my attention because she 
resembled a family portrait I have, so much so that one 
could hardly believe she had not sat for it. The original 
used to be called the ‘Seymour Lily/ I was so much 
surprised when I saw her. that I fear I was guilty of the 
rudeness of staring at her. I asked a lounger, who makes 
it his only business to find out about everybody he sees, 
who the ladies were, and he said they were Americans 
and were staying at the Brookdale Arms. I accordingly 
asked the landlord about them, and was told that the 
elder lady’s name was Seymour. The name gave me the 
hope of finding friends that I had lost trace of and em- 
boldened me to send my request for an interview with 
you, as she seems to be in your company.” 

As he paused, Mr. Grant said, coldly, “What do you 
wish to know ?” 

“I would like to ask if you know anything about Mrs. 
Seymour’s past history?” 

“I know,” said he, sternly, “that her husband, Allen 
Seymour, was driven from his ancestral halls because he 
chose to marry one of the most lovely women in the 
world, one that was evidently too good for him. Her 
daughter is my wife.” 

“You must not blame me,” said Lord Brookdale, ear- 
nestly; “I was a younger son, bred for the army, and a 
short time before my brother married, my regiment was 
ordered abroad. I was really very fond of Allen, 


218 


OUGIIT WE TO CARE 


although he was a headstrong lad and rather hard to get 
along with, so when, after a long while, I heard about it, 
I wrote to my father and elder brother and remon- 
strated with them on their treatment of him. But it did 
no good. I found out where he had gone, and wrote to 
him, but as I received no answer to my letters, I thought 
perhaps he did not write because I told him I did not see 
how I could help him with his father. My elder brother 
was killed by a fall from his horse, and I was called home 
to attend my father during his last illness and after his 
death to assume the title. As soon as the affairs of the 
estate were settled so that I could leave, I went to Amer- 
ica and tried to find my brother, for Mr. Danforth could 
give me no tidings of him. I could find no trace of him.” 

Of course his listener gradually changed his mind with 
regard to that particular member of the Seymour family. 
At the close of Lord Brookdale’s communication he re- 
lated what he knew about the family before and after he 
met them. 

As he finished, Lord Brookdale said, “I cannot doubt 
that your wife is my brother’s daughter, but, don’t you 
know, I think it is a pity that my niece is married, for I 
have a son, and he could have married his cousin and 
made the property matter all right.” 

“I don’t suppose you expect me to agree with you about 
that?” 

“Of course I don’t,” said he, with a good-natured 


OE ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


219 


laugh. “You are a lucky fellow, and we must arrange it 
some other way. In the meantime I shall not feel easy 
until I get you all up to the castle, for it is not right that 
my nearest relatives should be staying at an inn within 
sight of my home.” 

As he arose to take leave he said, “Mr. Grant, will you 
be so kind as to make my peace with the ladies, and bring 
them to take dinner with me. I shall send the carriage 
early and expect you to spend the night there. To-mor- 
row we can make arrangements for removing your lug- 
gage.” 

As he saw that Josie was about to object, he exclaimed, 
“You need not object ! I shall not take no for an an- 
swer,” and, with a cordial hand grasp, a smile and a bow, 
he was gone. 

“Well !” mused Josie, “that is an English Lord, and he 
is evidently used to lording it over others and having his 
own way generally. Well, his way in this case will about 
suit us also. It is only our right.” 

Of course he longed for the ladies to return, he had so 
much to tell them, but as he did not expect them for 
some time, he ordered a horse, took a long ride, returned 
to lunch, and had quite a long time to watch for their 
coming before a carriage arrived, and he saw a gentle- 
man alight, and assist his wife and mother to do the 
same. 

While he was wondering who the gentleman was, they 
entered the room. 


220 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


Mrs. Seymour said, eagerly, “Joseph, this is my 
brother, Mr. Danforth, Mr. Grant.” 

J oseph bowed slightly, not seeming to notice Mr. Dan- 
f orth’s extended hand, but that gentleman said, humbly, 
“Mr. Grant, my sister and my niece have forgiven me; 
will you take my hand, too ?” 

“Certainly !” he replied, with a bright smile. “I am 
happy to call their friends mine.” 

After that it was smooth sailing. They had a long and 
interesting talk. Though Mr. Danforth seemed much 
disappointed because he could not have them to stay with 
him, he was consoled by assurances that they would visit 
him often during their, stay in town. 

They had a delightful drive in the large family coach 
through country lanes bordered by blossoming hedges, 
then through an extensive park to Brookdale Castle. 

After dinner their host seemed in haste to adjourn to 
the picture gallery, to see if Ruth did really resemble the 
picture as much as he supposed. 

They found that the resemblance was, indeed, remark- 
able. The face seemed a sort of reflection of Ruth’s, the 
expression was almost identical, the same purity, intelli- 
gence, refinement, but the brightness which seemed to 
irradiate the countenance was like moonlight on a lily, 
while on Ruth’s it was like sunlight on the same flower. 
The features of the pictured face were the same except 
that there was extreme delicacy instead of the firm flesh, 
rounded cheek, dimpled chin and healthy color of Ruth’s 


OR ESTHER'S OPPORTUNITIES. 


221 


It is so curious how some types of face will appear and 
reappear in families with generations between — also 
some styles of character. How careful we ought to be 
how we build character, when it may reappear genera- 
tions hence to affect, for good or ill, not only those who 
inherit it, but countless others who may be influenced by 
them ! 

On the second day after the travellers’ removal to the 
castle, Mr. Danforth, very willing to be seen calling at 
the great house, drove up the avenue, and was ushered 
into the great drawing-room, where his relatives soon 
joined him. 

He said he was going to a neighboring town and asked 
Mr. Grant to drive with him ; he would not ask the ladies, 
as it was raining, but he thought his nephew would not 
mind that. 

His nephew was very glad to go out, even if the weather 
was rather moist, and he would like to see all he could of 
the surrounding towns. 

When he arrived at the town, Mr. Danforth did not 
seem to have much business to transact, and Joseph de- 
cided that it was but a pretext to get him alone for a talk. 

He commenced the talk by saying, "I want to ask your 
advice about something. I told my sister I was a lonely 
man, with no relatives but her, and asked her to stay with 
me. I told her I would try my best to make her comfort- 
able, and would, at my death, leave all I have to her. 


222 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


But she says that she has two grandchildren and hosts of 
friends besides Buth and yourself in America and she 
must go back there to live. Now, I can’t be contented 
unless I am allowed to do something for her. She seems 
to be very much attached to the farm where she lives. I 
should like to buy it for her. Do you think the owner 
would sell it ?” 

“Yes, and the owner has promised me the first chance, 
for I have hoped to buy it for her some time.” 

“How much could it be bought for ?” 

“About four hundred pounds.” 

“Is the house in good repair ?” 

“No ; the place needs some money laid out on it.” 

“Do you think that six hundred pounds would be 
enough.” 

“Yes.” 

“If I deposit that amount in your hands, will you be 
so kind as to purchase the place and see to repairs ? Will 
you also tell my sister that if she refuses to accept this 
present from me I shall think she has not really forgiven 
me?” 

“I will attend to the business and give her your mes- 
sage very willingly.” 

“Then,” said Mr. Danforth, with a sigh of relief, “I 
shall feel very grateful to you ; and here we are at home ; 
you will come in and lunch with me?” 

After lunch the servant brought in cigars. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


223 


When Joseph declined to take one, Mr. Danforth ex- 
claimed, “Oh ! yon are one of those fanatical Americans 
who think it a sin to smoke, are you ?” 

“Yes,” was the answer ; “it would be a sin for me, with 
my convictions.” 

“Well,” said his host, “I think that you are a man who 
would be apt to have reasons for his beliefs. I wish you 
would give me yours in this case.” 

“Do you really wish me to give all my reasons ?” 

“I asked you for them,” said he, rather testily. 

“When I was a small boy I lived in a poor neighbor- 
hood, where nearly all the boys smoked. Of course, they 
tried to make me do the same, but I refused until they 
said I did not dare to. Then, of course, I tried a cigar. 
As a natural consequence, I was very sick. The next 
time a cigar was offered to me I said, ‘No!’ One boy 
said, mockingly, ‘Poor little boy; it made him sick, it 
did.’ Another said, encouragingly, ‘Never mind, bubby, 
you’ll soon get used to it.’ But I told them I wasn’t 
such a fool as to try to like the filthy stuff and spend 
money for it when there were so many good things I did 
like that I couldn’t get money to buy. I am of the same 
opinion still. Then, T noticed that boys who got in the 
habit of smoking were very apt to learn to drink, too; 
then they acted like fools, and I had no desire to copy 
them. Since then I have studied the subject, and am 
confident that tobacco is injurious to health, and that it 


224 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


is my duty to try to keep a sound mind, and a sound body 
for it to dwell in. Then, again, 1 think I have no right 
to render myself disagreeable to others by carrying about 
with me a vile smell, and I surely have no desire to make 
myself offensive to refined women and sweet little chil- 
dren, for, although some ladies may be so very amiable 
that they even say they like the aroma of a good cigar, no 
one likes the smell of stale tobacco. Doctors say now that 
tobacco smoke is very injurious to children, acting upon 
them as a slow poison, and, of course, that one reason 
would be enough to a father who loves his children as I 
do, to look upon smoking with horror. Then, to one 
who has seen, as I have, so many suffering for the neces- 
saries of life, it seems a sin to spend in smoke money that 
would bring relief to so many of God’s poor that He has 
left in our care.” 

“Your reasons are good,” said Mr. Danforth. “I 
would not advise anyone to get into the habit of using 
tobacco, but I don’t know what I could do without my 
cigar. It is company for me, and I am so lonely !” 

“Find a good woman, marry her, give up your cigars ; 
you will find her to be much better company than they 
are,” said Josie, laughing; but he changed the subject, 
for he knew how almost useless it is to try to persuade a 
man to give up a long-indulged habit. 


or Esther's opportunities. 


225 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

It was after dinner at Brookdale Castle. There were 
no guests except Mrs. Seymour, her daughter and her 
husband. They were chatting over their dessert, when 
their host said, “ I have a statement to make to you, with 
your kind permission. My mother was an heiress. Her 
father left her the income of a large property during her 
life ; at her death, the income to be divided between her 
second and third sons, the eldest, of course, inheriting 
his father’s title and estate. If the eldest should die and 
the second take his place, the income was to be paid to the 
third son during his life, afterwards one-third of the 
income to his widow and two-thirds to his children until 
the death of the mother, when the whole property should 
be given to the children. My mother has been dead three 
years. So, you see, Mr. Grant, the income is due to your 
wife and her mother for that time, with interest. As 
soon as you can produce the necessary documents to prove 
their identity, you can meet my lawyer and the business 
can be settled. If you brought the papers with you, Mrs. 
Seymour, so much the better.” 


226 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


"I did,” was the answer. “My husband made me 
promise to bring all his papers to England and present 
our claim at his mother’s death. But you have kindly 
prevented me by your prompt action, for which I thank 
you. If I had known what a kind brother my husband 
had, I should not have felt so friendless during a part of , 
my life,” and she smiled through her tears. 

“We are very much pleased to find our relations, but 
we should be much more glad if you would live in Eng- 
land. I find that my son would not have been willing 
to obey me by marrying his cousin if she had been at lib- 
erty. The rogue has informed me that he has chosen 
his bird, and would like for a wedding tour next year a 
visit to his American cousins.” 

This announcement was met with hearty congratula- 
tions and cordial expressions of pleasure at the prospect 
of the visit. 

Does my reader say, “It is not probable that a person 
should have so much prosperity in so short a time” ? 

Suppose you knew a rich man, the father of several 
sons ; a father who was as good and wise as he was rich. 
Being wise, he studied the natures of his sons, and saw 
that one needed to be restrained, another stimulated, 
one taught to be generous, another to be economical. He 
decided that some of them should learn professions, 
others trades, according to their several tastes or abilities, 
all of them learn to be self-reliant and able to support 



SHE BUILT A . . . HOUSE ON IT. IT WAS LARGE AND AIRY. THE OLD FARMHOUSE WAS REPAIRED. 













































































































































or Esther's opportunities. 


227 


themselves in case of need. Then, when they had arrived 
at man’s estate, with strong minds in strong bodies and, 
more than all, with upright characters, he should give to 
each a large estate and a generous income. Would you 
wonder, when he was so rich, loved his sons so well, and 
knew they would make a good use of what he gave them, 
that he should give to them so liberally? Then why 
should it seem strange that the All Father, after the 
discipline and strengthening of character that He sees 
some of His children need, should, out of his vast store- 
houses, delight to bestow an abundance upon them ? He 
knows which of His children will be truly benefited by, 
and who will make a good use of, abundant means. 

Mrs. Seymour did make a good use of hers. She 
bought the farm, and built a comfortable, not a showy 
house, on it. It was large and airy, to accommodate her 
children and grandchildren when they chose to stay 
there. The old farmhouse was repaired, enlarged, and 
made cheery and pleasant with vines outside, and pic- 
tures inside. It was dedicated with appropriate services 
as a “Rest” for some of Earth’s weary ones. Then, all 
the year round, it was comfortably filled by those who 
needed rest, quiet, fresh air and good food. 

Josie Grant, as a poor man’s lawyer, had abundant op- 
portunity to find those who needed rest : overworked sew- 
ing women, men and women struggling up from sick 
beds, to whom a few weeks at the “Rest” was renewed 


228 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


life and strength ; children pining and fading out of life 
for lack of fresh air. One and all they were welcomed 
and cared for by J oanna, who was at the head of affairs at 
the “Rest.” She had found her vocation, and bloomed 
out into a comely, matronly-looking woman, whose white 
hair was really a crown of honor. 


oe Esther's opportunities. 


229 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Fifteen years after the commencement of onr story, 
Esther Heartly was lying on a lounge in her pleasant 
morning room and looking dreamily across the green 
lawn dotted with trees, shrubs and brightly-blooming 
groups of flowers, to the gleaming water of the softly- 
flowing river, when her near neighbor and dear friend, 
Mrs. Downs, came in. 

“Why, Esther, you lying down in the day-time!” 
Then, with an anxious look as she approached her, “You 
are not ill, are you ?” 

“No; only lazy.” 

“You ! lazy ! that is absurd ! but tell me, how do you 
feel?” 

“Only languid and indisposed to work. As a rather 
affected young man that I used to know years ago said, T 
feel a universal lassitude/ ” and she smiled faintly. 

“You must call in the new doctor who has taken old 
Dr. Newman’s place. My husband received a letter from 
a friend in Cambridge recommending him highly. He 


230 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


wrote, ‘Dr. Evans is a pleasant gentleman, an earnest 
Christian, and very skillful for one so young/ We called 
on them last night. His wife seems to be a lovely woman. 
You will let me send him in ? Perhaps a little care now 
will save you serious illness/’ 

“Oh, you want to encourage the new doctor, I see,” 
Esther said, playfully. “So I must help by being his first 
patient.” Then, with a resigned air, “I suppose you 
must have your way.” 

Accordingly, about a half hour afterwards the serv- 
ant announced Dr. Evans, and she saw advancing to- 
wards her across the room one of the most splendid- 
looking men she had ever seen: tall, well-formed, an 
abundance of dark hair and beard, a perfectly wonderful 
smile, and then his eyes ! — large and dark, they seemed 
truly the windows through which a noble soul looked 
out. She felt as if she was under a spell and could not 
move. 

With professional coolness he seated himself beside 
her, saying, “Mrs. Downs asked me to call.” 

“Yes, she insisted that I was ill, but I am not.” 

After asking her a few questions he said, “Mrs. Downs 
is a wise woman. There is considerable disarrangement 
in your system which, if neglected, would cause serious 
trouble, but if you will follow my directions, in a few 
days, I think, you will be as well as usual. 

“But, Miss Selby — excuse me, Mrs. Heartly — you do 
not recognize me, do you ?” 


or Esther's opportunities. 


231 


“Recognize you ? I never saw you before ; but, I ought 
to know those eyes ! As you look at me they seem 
strangely familiar. No, Dr. Evans, I don't think I ever 
met you." 

“Perhaps my name would sound more natural to you 
if you called it Dan Evans." 

“Is it possible ! How you have altered since the sum- 
mer you were in my Sunday School class." 

“I have acquired quite a number of inches in height 
and a quantity of beard since then." 

“I meant, you have grown so" — then she stopped, 
slightly embarrassed. 

“Do not be afraid to say handsome ; I am used to it," 
and he laughed a low, musical laugh. Then becoming 
grave again, he said, “I think that, like Mrs. Whitney's 
old lady in ‘Sights and Insights,' when I ceased to care 
about being outwardly beautiful, I began to grow so in a 
measure. The first Sunday that you came into our class 
was a turning point in my life. Boy though I was, I was 
growing morbid. I had been told so many times in so 
many words, that I was the ugliest-looking boy that ever 
was, but oftener by looks of aversion from my nearest 
relatives, that I was fast growing as ugly in mind and 
heart as I was in person, when your kind words gave me 
the hope of gaining a beauty which was worth having. 
With God's help, I tried earnestly to attain it, and I was 
soon very happy, for I won the love of my friends, and 


2?, 2 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


that was what I longed for. I shall never be able to ex- 
press one-half of the gratitude I felt and shall always 
feel for those wise words of yours. I have always kept 
myself informed of your place of residence and welfare, 
and in choosing a location where I could practice my pro- 
fession, the fact that you lived here greatly influenced 
my decision. Now, I must tell you something that, for 
a year, I have longed to tell you. After I had met and 
loved the lady who is now my wife and we were well 
enough acquainted to be quite confidential, I told her of 
that summer and the debt of gratitude that I owed to 
Miss Selby. When I mentioned your name, she ex- 
claimed in surprise, ‘Miss Selby ! Why, that is a house- 
hold word to me. She saved my life when I was a little 
more than a baby, and I have prayed for her every day 
ever since I can remember/ Now, isn’t it wonderful that 
the girl whose life you saved and the boy whose spiritual 
life you helped to save should now be man and wife !” 

“Our God is a wonder-working God,” she said, 
brightly, then was silent. 

Dr. Evans talked awhile longer, evidently trying to 
rouse her from her dreamy languor, and he talked well 
upon any subject, but when he spoke of Christ and His 
kingdom he was eloquent. 

As he paused, Esther, who was looking and listening 
in rapt attention, said, softly, “I think a great deal of 
the beauty is the shining through of the white and 
glistening robe of His righteousness.” 


OR ESTHER* S OPPORTUNITIES. 


233 


As the doctor arose and took her hand he said, with 
even tearful earnestness, “I thank you for those words, 
for it is my highest ambition to be so completely clothed 
in that robe that all may see and ‘Take knowledge that 
1 have been with J esus.’ ” Then, in a cheery voice, "I 
will come again to-morrow, and shall expect to find you 
better.” 

“You will bring your wife with you ?” 

“Thank you, I will,” and with a smile that seemed to 
warm one's very heart, he said, earnestly, “God bless 
you.” 

Esther had thought that her life was very full of bless- 
ing, but she found that the almost daily companionship 
of these congenial and loving friends added vastly to her 
happiness, and she could say gratefully, “Truly my cup 
runneth over.” 

In the first chapter of this book was the announcement, 
“Esther is coming.” We have chronicled her advent at 
her home in her brother's house, how she came near or 
entered into other lives, that she tried to benefit others, 
and how well she succeeded in making many lives hap- 
pier and better. 

We need only glance at the remainder of her life — a 
double life now, doubly blessed, and doubly useful. 

They had two children, a son and daughter, who in- 
herited the virtues their parents possessed in their ma- 
turity — the refined and disciplined nature, instead of 
the faults and weaknesses of their youth. 


234 


OUGHT WE TO CARE 


They had two children : that meant four little feet to 
guide into paths of righteousness — in other words, of 
pleasantness and peace ; two minds to cultivate and pre- 
pare for good work in the world; two hearts to lead to 
the loving Savior. It also meant to them, two loving 
hearts in which father and mother would be enshrined 
next to their God ; two keen intellects able and willing to 
plan for them when they should be unable to plan for 
themselves ; strong and tender arms to sustain and loving 
voices to cheer them as they descend the slopes of life to 
the margin of the river. 

We may not follow them through their long and happy 
life. We may not see the many who were benefited by 
their active help, tender sympathy, kind encouragement, 
wise and loving word : by their beautiful example, their 
bold opposition to the wrong, their brave upholding of 
the right and their loyalty to the King of Kings. 

If we have shown in these pages a few of the oppor- 
tunities for doing good improved by Esther; if we have 
shown that a few lives that touched hers were benefited 
by her loving care for them, we can well believe that, as 
a river keeping steadily on its course, fed all the way 
by living springs, grows in volume and power as it goes 
onward to the sea, so her opportunities multiplied and 
she was more and more a blessing to all who came within 
the circle of her influence. And when united to her 
other self, who can estimate the value to the world of 


or Esther's opportunities. 


235 


such a pair, with no crudities and no angles, therefore 
no friction, but a harmonious whole started to do God’s 
work in the world, their lives continually blossoming 
with worthy deeds and their old age blessed with glorious 
harvests and abundant fruitage to be gathered into the 
Heavenly Garner — the results of answering in a Christ- 
like manner the question, “Ought we to care ?” 
















JUN 22 J903 


Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 



ta 


JAN 

0BKKEEPER 


PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, INC. 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 





